#& gn reader

[saturnsurn]

SAY MY NAME

In which they find out their contact name!

☆ Gojo, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna and Toji

☆ Gn! Reader, pet names, I’m kinda ashamed abt this one but haven’t posted in a while

[greenandsorrow]

My favourite kid basically.

the price for misbehaving (i)

Alastor in the rut x gn!reader

WARNINGS; 18+, reader with female parts, horniness & hormones, deer/doe!demon!reader, breeding k1nk, primal instincts, mentions of deer mating season, premature ejaculation, masturbation, dry humping, penetrative sex, marking & biting, friends to lovers, very descriptive, smut with emotion, corn with plot, fictional man being pathetic

Dividers by; @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either ❤️

I somehow always manage to write more than originally planned, so this is big. Also, this is my first time writing a gender neutral reader -I'm still learning.

my original idea • ~masterpost~

Alastor is the radio demon. You have no clue how he manages to behave like he's the epitome of etiquette and a true gentleman, while also having the reputation of one of the most dangerous citizens of Hell, an overlord, a sinister killer and a cannibal.

Alastor is your friend. You fell in Hell three decades after him, but the fact that you're also a deer demon seemed to get him interested in you. His smile is less a sign of dominance and more one of sympathy around you. What's more, the radio demon is a tad bit protective when it comes to you. You'll never know it, but Alastor has his way of keeping you safe, discreetly pulling the strings, luckily for your sake.

He had been missing for years and when he had come to your door, big grin, shiny hooves and polished cane and had told you about the "Hazbin Hotel" you hadn't questioned much. It was weird that someone like him would back up Lucifer's daughter on such an idealistic plan, but with the extermination being a constant bane in your life, you had agreed heartily. You had wrapped your arms around Alastor's lean frame in a never recorpirated hug and you'd been off to your new place of residence.

You like the hotel. You and Niffty are old friends, the barman is a familiar face and Charlie is thrilled to have you here. The other residents have been no trouble to you, so you've managed to adjust to your new lifestyle no problem.

Let's not forget one thing though, you're all sinners and Alastor is ten times the amount you are. This comes with consequences for him. Alastor is bound to face an eternal struggle against his animal side, a struggle that he's been destined to lose. According to Angel, the radio demon you call your friend would identify as asexual had he been born later on Earth. But even with that, the urges he has to experience during the rutting season can't be prevented. You're still unaware your friend has to go through this.

But that's Alastor's price for misbehaving.

It's another evening at the hotel.

Charlie and Vaggie are on a date and that means no planned activities for the rest of you. You like the peace and quiet. Your deer ears are lowered in concentration as you're sitting on the couch of the lounge area, reading a book which has turned out to be a sick and twisted edition of Pride & Prejudice.

Alastor's been very distant since the beginning of autumn. More than usual. It's almost October now... and it has peaked your interest why he has been spending whole days locked up in his quarters. Sometime during September, you two had been chatting merrily about jazz, when all of a sudden his pupils had shrank and he had let out an uncharacteristically shaky sigh. You remember how his breathing had sped up and he had smiled politely before vanishing into thin air.

You're about to stand up and go to your room, when your ears practically perk up at the sound of static. You know this sound... and even though it usually means bad news, you look up and give the source of it a little smile. "Oh, hi Al..."

Alastor's antlers begin to grow, but he can control himself for now. The rutting starts hitting him with a new wave of frustration -and it's getting worse now that he's in your presence.

"My favorite y/n! What are you reading my dear?", his grin and confidence hide how vulnerable he feels in this state.

"Charlie gifted me some of her old books and-"

"Oh Charlie! She is a gem, isn't she?" Alastor suddenly leans to the side, as if trying to scratch something out of his hair. His face quickly returns back to its normal grin... but he also begins to scratch his arm.

You chuckle awkwardly. Why is he looking so irritable?

"Well, she's so nice, I can't disagree with you there... and I'm glad she finally decided to take some time off to spend with her girlfriend."

He laughs, showing off his sharp teeth as you initiate in small talk.

Alastor can feel a voice deep within calling him to give in and claim you, breed you 'till his hunger is satisfied. The radio demon's expression fades to an empty, dull stare, as his instincts fight against him. Now you're feeling uneasy and you shift in your seat.

"Ah- sorry dear. Got caught up there, I forgot myself." Alastor takes a quick breath, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to stay in control. "Don't you worry y/n! I'm certainly quite harmless."

He's in full rutting mode, his voice starts becoming breathy -the animalistic urges taking over. It's only getting worse as he stands close to you, the hormones increasing his urge to be near you, to make you his and his alone.

His voice is hoarse now and his breathing heavier. "Have you seen Niffty by chance?"

His ears move as if they're itching him.

You clear your throat and try to keep your curiosity regarding his behavior at bay. "I'm afraid I haven't, she's probably killing bugs somewhere..."

Alastor's expression shifts to one of pure annoyance. To your oblivious so far mind, Al is probably just pissed off at something. "Well then, if you happen to see her, do tell her she better not disturb me at my room... and don't you dare forget it my dear!"

"I- I won't."

His pupils almost completely disappear as he stares at you and his mouth curls into a snarl with his yellowish teeth out.

He has a hypnotic effect on you, you're beginning to feel lightheaded being near him. He takes a step back, moving a safe distance away from you -because he feels like he's gonna launch on you at any given moment. Alastor is getting tired of trying to maintain his composure around you.

He hates how shallow his breathing has become, how the urge to take you has become too much for him to bear. A low growling noise escapes him.

Alastor watches as you resume your previous activity of reading. Humiliated from his lack of control and frustrated from the stinging sensation in his loins he slips away from the lounge.

Alastor is alone now, his eyes wild with lust and desperation, as he looks around his room in a frenzy. He grabs a pillow and starts rubbing his groin against it. He feels like his body is melting from all the heatb -he can't help but imagine the pillow is your backside.

"Oh~", he breathes out raggedly, his inhales shallower and shallower as his imagination toys with him. You'd look so delicious in the place of the lifeless pillow... Alastor's heart is racing and his antlers have grown sharp and tall on his head.

He is overwhelmed, being rather sexually unbothered the rest of the year has made his shaft extra sensitive.

...why him? Why does he have to go through this rutting thing? It makes him feel powerless and he hates it...

Alastor groans in desperation. He squeezes his eyes shut, imagining your soft skin sliding against his body... He thinks of your cute fluffy tail. You get all your clothes tailored so that there's space for it to protrude while he always tucks his own in his suit pants...

In a fury, he takes off his coat and crawls on the bed, placing the pillow between his legs. He's in all fours as he humps it like a real deer.

He keeps growling, the sound mixing with static. He can't stop thinking of you -the perfect mate... another deer. Alastor's mind is playing out all these amazing things, your smile and your voice, your butt, your ears that match his own... and your neck that he'd definitely mark with his teeth if he was ever given the chance.

Alastor is in a trance. With shaky hands he curses himself for, he reaches down to his crotch and takes out his cock. His tip is flushed and swollen and he hisses as he continues to push his hips against the pillow. The deer demon grunts softly, his hips moving involuntarily with restless abandon as he pretends to be mating with a partner.

"Take that... oh~" Alastor's cock throbs painfully, desperate for release. The pillow has been providing him with some much needed friction the last few weeks, but he knows it soon won't be enough to satisfy him. His red hair is sticking to his forehead and he's panting so much -chasing his release with a desperation he'd consider pathetic, if he could focus on anything else than his tightening balls.

Alastor continues to rub against the pillow and the motion makes his tail slip out of his suit pants. He can feel his body heat up even more, sweat beading on his forehead as he approaches his climax.

Your curiosity has gotten the best of you. You can't concentrate on your book and all you can think of is Alastor. In any case, the other residents of the hotel are busy doing their own thing, so there's no one stopping you from walking all the way to Alastor's rooms. There's static coming from his bedroom, but what really intrigues you are the groans... they're rather guttural... You assume he maybe hunted down an animal and he's devouring it? This has to be it...

On the other side of the door, Alastor is shaking with desire and his heart is pounding. The smell of you -that he assumes is part of his fantasy- is driving him insane, as he is almost ready to release a torrent of hot cum on his pillow.

"Alastor?" you knock on the big, ornate door.

This sudden interruption almost causes Alastor to fall over. He quickly covers his twitching member and throws the pillow away from him. One would expect him to feel embarrassed, but his first thought at being caught red handed is to kill you. Luckily for you, it's just a thought.

"Al? It's y/n. Can I come in?"

The radio demon's face contorts in desperation as he realizes how unsatisfied he feels. His hips are still rocking back and forth slightly, despite his attempts to control his body.

Why did you have to pay him a visit NOW? He was so close to finding relief...

Alastor has become desperate and not to mention agitated. What if you smell his arousal in the air? What if you look down and see the outline of his dick in his pants?!

He groans and shifts uncomfortably. The demon closes his eyes for a moment as he tries to even out his breathing.

Eventually, he shakes his head and walks to the door. He has fought against mighty overlords, he shouldn't hesitate to face his harmless friend just because he is in the rut.

Alastor doesn't want to admit it, but he most definitely is in breeding mode. Proof of that... the moment he opens the door, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it alone. Your friend bites back a groan.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, my dear?"

Taking in his appearance, something is definitely off to your inquisitive eyes. You notice how he's only in his shirt and vest -something truly rare for the Alastor you've come to know. His bow tie is crooked and the cherry on top... you can see his tail! It's red like his ears and... moving? You wonder why.

"Is he in musth or something?" you joke in your head.

"I was just bored in all honesty... Everyone is occupied with something. Um... you look... sick?"

"Ha!Ha! Don't be absurd y/n! You can't get any sicker than you already are in Hell!"

He can't hide the slight edge from his voice. He claims he is fine, but the look on his face screams otherwise.

Alastor's temperature keeps rising, his body is so sensitive and without realizing it, he neglects to filter his voice.

"Would you like to come in?"

Your eyes widen and you look at him with genuine surprise clear on your features. He quickly catches up that he screwed, but lets it go, the shivers he's starting to experience as his unattended cock is asking for some action having gained all his focus.

The air in the room is thick and you begin to have second thoughts about your decision to come here, but it's too late for that, so you just walk in Alastor's bedroom. His quarters are always clean and intimidating just like their occupant. Still, you like coming here, he's never been hostile towards you and if anything, dancing with Alastor or spilling some tea with him has always been part of your routine here at the hotel.

"Wanna dance?"

"You know I always do." Alastor manages to keep his smile and composure despite the sweat running down his back.

The jookbox starts playing on its own and you casually walk closer to your years long friend. Since he's always been much taller, you place your hands on his chest, while he wraps his own around your waist.

Alastor's lips start tingling as he looks down at your exposed neck. He bites the insides of his mouth until he tastes blood -he can't allow himself to think about you like that.

You sway back and forth in the rhythm of the old timey tunes, inevitably rubbing against him. The new found friction has him biting down on his tongue and clenching his fists behind your back until his nails are piercing his palms -otherwise he'd be howling out in despair.

Immersed in the songs you love so much, you unconsciously shift even closer to your fellow deer demon, but he harshly jerks away from you, his expression growing panicked. "H- haha... I c- can't let you d- do that my friend!"

You frown. Why can't you dance with him like you always do? ...and did the radio demon just stutter? You sigh at his lack of cheerfulness and look down.

Your now downcast gaze gives you a nice view of his... crotch area... and the said area has a raging bulge. Your first thought is to touch it and indulge in the attraction you've always felt for Alastor, but the way his antlers are growing right now and the static that's peaking up again make you turn to leave.

Long fingers wrap around your wrist in an instant and when you turn back at him, his eyes have changed.

"The song's not over dear y/n.", he says in the same strained tone and you swallow.

"R- right... my bad."

He has you pressed tightly against him in no time and he's swaying with you almost like he's on autopilot. And you can now feel his unbelievably hard erection against your lower body. Alastor grunts softly, his eternal smile faltering as his cock keeps throbbing painfully within his pants, desperate for release.

The demon's eyes wander over you, taking in your form. He knows he has to maintain some semblance of control, but his hormones are off the roof. Without realizing the inappropriateness of his actions, Alastor reaches out to touch you, fingers grazing the skin of your cheek. The demon's cock throbs even harder at the contact, leaking pre-cum in his underwear.

"You're so beautiful..."

Heat pools in your belly and your face flushes at his simple comment. He's a charmer, but that's a new one. His monocle slips down slightly as he leans in close, his scent of musk and arousal surrounding you.

Alastor's hands move to your hips, pulling you impossibly close. His eyes lock onto yours, filled with lust and a primal need. He presses his hips against yours and you can feel his clothed cock twitching eagerly.

His monocle falls to the floor as he loses himself in the rutting.

"Al- what's happening?"

Before you can question his unusual behaviour any further, Alastor presses his hardened length against your stomach with intent. A mix of frustration and pleasure is clear on his features.

To say you're surprised would be an understatement, but you don't stop him. You watch in awe as your bricked up friend loses himself to lust and his need to mate.

Your innocent dancing moment has turned into him dry humping you. He releases a guttural groan -too far gone to care about composure.

Alastor begins to grind against you faster, mimicking the movements of a rutting deer. His grip tightens around you, his need growing stronger and overwhelming. The bulge in his pants keeps pushing insistently against you, but you're so stunned by this turn of events that you grab him by the arms and take a step back.

Alastor's eyes flatter open and for a moment... He snaps out of his blurry state of mind. He straightens and clears his throat. He then gives you a stern look, with ears lowered.

"Get out."

"B- but we were-"

"You don't want to make me repeat myself."

The moment he's alone again, Alastor works the buttons of his dress pants in a daze, freeing his swollen cock. A low growl rumbles in his chest -and the deer demon is convinced that if he doesn't cum in the following minute, he's going to die a second time. He keeps making soft sounds, his body aching with the need to mate.

He had you right here, but he can't bring himself to be so vulnerable in front of someone other than himself.

What would Vox say if he found out that Alastor is forced to go through a mating season like some fucking animal? Why does the price of his sins have to manifest into some primal need to breed?

"Fffffuck!"

His mind gets fixated on the ache between his legs.

With an animalistic sound of pure lust, Alastor reaches down and wraps his fingers around one of his heavy testacles. He squeezes it gently, feeling his warm seed oozing out his slit. He leaks copious amounts of pre-cum on his crimson bedsheets. The radio demon watches, transfixed by the sight of his own seed dripping down the length of his hard dick. It's a powerful aphrodisiac for him and he can't help but imagine it spilling into you instead.

His cock twitches in anticipation and he gives in. Every day since the rutting season began, he has been trying to suppress his instincts and today has been no different, if anything, your presence made his hormones go even more nuts... and you should be happy you're not carrying his fawns by now.

Alastor begins to stroke himself -legs spread and sweat making his clothes stick to his body. His breath catches in his throat as his hips involuntarily back into his hand. The tips of his claws grow slightly and he's jerking himself off at a punishing pace now. Alastor's groans turn into pleasured whimpers as he arches his back, driving his erection deeper in his hand.

What would it feel like to finish inside you? To make you come... To have your heat contracting around his rock-hard member as you milk him past the point of no return?

"Oh- ...agh- y/n..."

He's murmuring things in unknown languages, but it all comes back to your name.

Alastor's hips begin to thrust forward in time with his strokes, seeking release from the torment of his lust. He snarls and growls in a throaty manner. He physically can't take it anymore, his balls feel like they're on fire...

The radio demon's eyes roll back in his head, the pleasure is intense, but it's only fueling his desire for a real partner more.

His fingers are sliding up and down his sensitive shaft and he can feel himself getting closer -but he knows that's not enough. Alastor's breath has become ragged, his monocle forgotten along with his pride somewhere far away... his vision is blurring...

Feeling himself nearing the edge, Alastor grits his teeth and pushes through the ache. His muscles tense... and then, he finally comes in a powerful burst of pleasure, shooting thick ropes of cum across the room. He keeps coming, his hips bucking upward, pushing his cock even deeper into his fist as he empties himself.

Alastor's orgasm was intense -almost violent- but it was the sweet release he's been craving all day long. As his climax finally begins to subside, the demon collapses back onto the bed, panting heavily.

However, his cock has remained hard and throbbing between his legs, demanding more attention as he tries to catch his breath.

Slowly, a tired Alastor sits up and glances down at his still engorged member. A part of him is reveling in the feeling of power that comes with being so thoroughly aroused, but he's not ready to admit that. For now, needs to fuck something, anything.

But hasn't he been tormented enough? Why isn't he satisfied yet?

He reaches for the nearest object. It doesn't matter what it is, as long as it can take his cock and bear the brunt of his ferocious passion. With a sinister chuckle, Alastor picks up another unlucky cushion and holds it tightly against his hips. His cock jerks repeatedly as he positions himself with the head of his shaft pressing against the soft fabric.

The cushion offers little resistance but serves as an outlet for Alastor's raging desire. He pounds away at it, relentlessly, his body shaking. With the ever present sound of static -evidence of his frustration-, he rhythmically pistons in and out of his makeshift partner with brutal force.

He's been doing this for weeks now, all the unsatisfied hunger making him lose his sanity bit by bit.

The radio demon's eyes are glazed over with passion. He continues fucking the cushion with savage intensity... still he wishes he could take it out on someone made of flesh and blood, someone who would react and offer him some reassurance that he's not going to pass out.

The pleasure is threatening to overwhelm Alastor once again and with labored breathing, he frantically moves his hips-

"N- no, n- no....agh-" he lets out a feral roar, spurting a sticky cumshot onto the cushion. This time, when he collapses on the mattress, he is exhausted.

He doesn't bother looking down at his angry cock, the discomfort isn't going away till the mating season ends...

...let's go back to you now.

After being so abruptly pushed away by Alastor, you went straight to your room. You have a lot to ponder over after tonight. Maybe you did have a small a crush on your friend that had allowed the situation to escalate. His behavior has been so off putting though.

You'd been proud of yourself, considering that you know Alastor better than anyone else in Hell, since he talks about everything with you over a cup of tea. He had been so excited to tell you he'll soon be back on air and he's always somewhere around you at all times. So, the fact that he just expressed sexual desire for you and then told you to leave him alone immediately after...

You would have never guessed that your fellow deer demon is interested in sex. He's been in the company of some of the most desired demons, but he's simply not into that kind of thing... Yet, he had dry humped you like some desperate animal.

His scent had been so blissful to your nostrils, that he had almost woken something primal in your own body. There's definitely a lot of tension between you two now and you hope that tomorrow he will approach you.

You sigh and get all cozy under your bed covers. How should you deal with the situation at hand? You know him. Not just the radio demon, or Alastor the cannibal, but him.

Maybe the whole redemption thing is working after all, but when did you start being so considerate and thoughtful of other sinners' hardships? And if your friend's hardship is a constant hard on, perhaps your services will be appreciated -or you've just been hanging out with Angel too much.

It's a new day in Hell.

You take your time getting ready before joining Niffty in the kitchen to make breakfast.

Alastor is sat on his bed, his face buried in his hands as he trembles with unwanted arousal. He's almost at the point of a nervous breakdown. The radio demon is getting angrier with himself -the urge to find you and claim you is getting worse and worse and he struggles to maintain his calm.

Alastor gets ready. His routine a bit different when in rutting mode. He first relieves some of the pressure in his balls, he then puts on a clean shirt, fixes his hair and places his red monocle back in place. And of course, his smile, because he's never fully dressed without one!

"Oh good morning my fellows! What a pleasant breakfast you seem to be having!" He prefers to eat alone, so him appearing late isn't something worth noticing... but the tenting in his trousers definitely is...

And when Angel smirks mischievously at him, Alastor smiles in such an unnerving manner that the spider demon has to cower behind Husk.

"Al! Morning!" you say a bit too cheerfully. Your ears rise on your head to match your general attitude.

The radio demon grins at you -internally relieved you're not keeping last night against him. He rarely feels any remorse -part of why he's in Hell- but he's not proud of snapping at you last night just because he's irritable and frustrated 24/7. You're a deer demon like him, but you never get in heat like an animal, you weren't as sinister as he was when alive and therefore your punishment isn't as tormenting.

You stand up and start gathering the dishes. Charlie is eager to help you, but you manage to deny her excessive kindness for once.

Alastor swallows a guttural growl as you turn your back at him and start walking to the kitchen, your deer tail and your ass all too enticing for him. His legs begin to move against his will, following you like he's being driven purely by instinct. He is once again biting his tongue hard enough to taste the familiar to him, metallic taste of blood. There is a certain strain the urge is causing him... and for once Alastor is feeling desperate for touch.

"Angel and I are going outside today, he said he wants me to meet a friend of his... Um, I think her name's Cherri or something."

You obviously felt his presence, his red eyes feasting on your form the whole time.

"How delightful, making new acquaintances! I am still decorating my humble station. Haha!"

"Oh, I can't wait to experience your radio show again Al! It's been so long!"

His arrogant smirk is accompanied by a twitch of his stiff dick. The energy boost he feels when you acknowledge his power... it makes him dangerously lightheaded.

He walks closer to you, looming right behind you as you stretch to put something on a high self. Alastor has you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. The demon's cock throbs painfully against the fabric of his pants. The said fabric growing damp as he grows harder.

With a frenzied urgency, Alastor gives in to his animal side and leans in, his hot breath in your ear is sending shivers down your spine, your pupils dilating.

"Do you even realize what you've been doing to me sweet y/n?"

He is getting impatient... and when you don't answer him immediately, he presses his tent against your ass. "Do you my little deer?"

The sound of static feels the air, his voice distorted and his breathing heavier than before. "You... have no idea how much I want- no... how much I need this, with you."

You swallow, your own breath has sped up and heat has pooled in your tummy again. But when you turn to look at him, you come face to face with a hideous creature with wild eyes. You flinch. Alastor's smile fails him and you swear you hear the most discreet of sniffles coming from him.

"Help me." That's proof enough for you that your friend is going through something he clearly didn't ask for, but it's taking over him anyway.

Angel Dust has described to you how he'd needed time to get used to having multiple arms and you have to file down your antlers daily, so that they don't overgrow and cause you headaches. Alastor on the other hand loses himself to primal urges once a year.

You lock your gaze on his and extend a steady hand, placing it on the side of his pale face. Not only does he allow it, but your small gesture seems to have the effect on Alastor, his demon form receding -and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while also trying so hard to hold back from bending you over the counter and taking you raw right now.

"Stay still..."

It's now or never for you. You hesitantly cup his bulge.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact sends shivers down his spine. He buries his face in your neck and starts nibbling or better... biting around your collarbones. It's a cannibalistic urge of his, but he would kill himself before causing you any real harm.

Alastor groans, his still clothed member twitching under the pressure of your hand. The demon can barely think straight -rutting instincts taking over completely.

"I need... I need to be inside you." He can only whisper, reaching down to pull your shirt up, his fingers trembling as he does, revealing your upper body to him. "Yes... I need you."

This is all so sudden for you, but you finally know with certainty what's happening. "You're... mating or something?"

You stop rubbing his clothed crotch and Alastor moans, the sound carrying the old audio-like effect. He nods slightly, his hips bucking against your hand. He's so close to losing control. The mating season has driven him mad with lust. A lust projected on you, it seems.

"Y/n... I need you now."

"Al... They- They're gonna hear us... We're in the frickin' kitchen! ...we can't... can't-"

Alastor's eyes widen and he stumbles back, his erection pleading to be freed from his dress pants.

He looks at you incredulously, angrily. "What?! But I... I said that I need you." He starts panting, there's a look of betrayal on his face that has you short circuiting.

"I'm already half naked here and you're... You're obviously hard- It's too risky!"

"I. Don't. Care."

"Well you should... but..." you sigh.

"I do have another idea. I've been rather inactive in the afterlife but... I can do it for you."

Your friend's heart is racing with anticipation. He tries to control his unsteady breathing -without much success.

"Another idea?" he asks with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I know it's not what you really crave... but I can... you know... jerk you off?"

Did you really just say that?

He begins to unbutton his pants hurriedly.

"Very well..."

As Alastor's pants fall to his knees, he scratches his fluffy ears, presenting his throbbing member to you. It's a sight to behold -long with a shimmering dew covering the tip.

"Do it."

Your mouth waters as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing. His ballsack hangs heavy, filled with seed, so that he can breed for as long as the rutting lasts. Something must've altered in your brain's chemistry, because you take his balls in your hand, fondling them. The deer demon lets out a low moan, his hips thrusting forward slightly. The sensation of your hand on his sensitive balls is almost too much for him to bear...

"More..." he manages to whisper between pants.

Encouraged by his reaction, you squeeze his balls softly and Al lets out a throaty groan, his dick twitching, almost ready to explode. He's not used to other people touching him.

You're still unsure if that's the right thing to do in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in at any given moment. But he seems to be really into it and the look in his eyes makes it clear to you that you can't just stop now. So that's what he's been struggling with, what's been making him stay locked in his room, until dealing with it on his own wasn't enough.

Alastor's gaze is pleading you and his voice comes out shaky, unfiltered.

"Please... I need more..." He then reaches down and moves your hand on his eager cock. You wrap your fingers around his length, with your thumb resting on his head, tracing it slowly. The sounds he makes and the way his features contort with pleasure makes you start stroking him.

The overlord can't believe what's happening. He has never experienced anything like this and it feels incredible. The more you stroke him, the more he bucks his hips into your hand. "Y- yes... just like that..."

You feel so confident now that he seems to have let go completely, allowing you to do as you please with his body. You know teasing isn't fair, especially in his hormonal state, but you can't help slowing down your hand's movements -playing with the friction you're providing him with. He lets out a frustrated huff of air, his nostrils flaring.

"Faster."

"Nope, I told you I don't want anyone finding us out."

"I didn't ask you darling. It was an order."

You stubbornly slow down your hand even more and you know that this is far from enough for him. Alastor needs more speed, more pressure.

"I... Don't... Give a single penny if they'll hear us... J- just... y/n, get me there." His body trembles with need as he speaks to you.

"You... You accepted to help me... And yet, you- you refuse to give me what I want." He looks down at your lips with a mix of lust and anger in his bright eyes.

You suppress a mischievous giggle.

It's empowering seeing such a strong demon being dependent on you. You can feel the heat radiating from his dick and he makes a desperate little sound when you begin moving your hand up and down his long member again.

You almost feel pity for him -teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and out of control. Though that decision has nothing to do with the fact that he could kill you, you actually feel strongly for him and the way both pairs of your ears move in sink as you pick up pace is so... natural for you, like you two belong together in a primal sense.

Alastor feels his muscles tensing up and his black heart is pounding like crazy.

"I can't- can't-"

He looks mesmerized at your hand jerking him off at a now delicious speed.

You are so turned on and you want to give him all the pleasure you can, even if you're in the hotel's kitchen. You begin sinking on your knees and you see him gulp. Your friend freezes for a moment, his mind racing with images of pleasure and ecstasy.

"That's new."

"How so Al?"

"I've never had that... but I want to now."

You can't help but smile. He probably never wanted a blow job before and he won't be in the mood for one after the rutting ends.

You're now at the right height so you just go for it, leaning in. Your tongue swirls around his pulsating cockhead and you're surprised from the amount of pre cum he can produce. Alastor's eyes roll back in his head as he lets out a long, low moan. The sensation of your warm breath and wet tongue on him sends shivers down his spine.

"Don't stop..."

You lick his slit and he groans deeply, his eyes squeezing shut. "Yeah... Keep doing this... agh~"

You're offering stimulation and he's gritting his teeth at the feeling, but something isn't quite right. You're once again toying with him, denying him the release he so desperately wants.

"I will have you... eventually."

Alastor then takes a big breath, his cock is still hard as steel. "You're a real temptation~" He glares at you -rather hungrily- his nostrils once again flaring.

"Don't try to make me beg."

"But would you now?" Under any other circumstances, you'd never be that bold with him....

Alastor laughs darkly in response to your challenge, causing a cold chill to run down your spine.

"You wound me, my dear. I would never beg for anything... Especially not when it comes to satisfying this... this unwanted but still unyeilding desire..."

You smile wickedly -your ears conveying your feelings, as always, when they move. In a swift motion, but still cautiously, you push back his foreskin. A low, agonizing moan escapes Alastor's lips as your action exposes his sensitive flesh to the air. Hips jerking forward involuntarily, seeking more contact with your hand...

"You're killing me mon cher~"

"Buckle up Al..."

You start stroking him thoroughly.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you jerk him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. "Unh..."

You're now applying some serious pressure on his throbbing dick. With a primal scream, Alastor's entire body tenses up and he begins releasing his seed on your hand.

"Oh goodness..." He keeps groaning and you can see him shudder as he does so. He continues spurting thick, white fluid onto your hand, seemingly unable to stop himself.

In his eyes there's a mix of lust and gratitude. He licks his lips unconsciously.

"What else can you do to me?"

"W- What? Me?"

The demon chuckles lightly at your question. His eyes trail down your body appreciatively when you stand up. "And why not you? You're here and I need some action these days!"

He grins and you sigh.

"Well, that means it could be anyone... anyone other than me."

You don't like how this revelation makes you feel sad and disappointed.

A sly smirk plays at the corners of Alastor's mouth. "I suppose it could, but then again, why settle for anyone when I can have you?"

His voice is husky and you like this tone from him. "You and I belong together, dear y/n."

He's clearly considering you his mate now.

Your romantic side wins and you cup his face. That seems to sober him up if just for a few minutes. The overlord looks like he's savoring the sensation and a deep sigh escapes him. "I don't deserve this, not with you."

"But I do want to be present through this... I get it."

The glimmer of hope returns to his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"I won't leave you suffering alone Alastor."

He nods as he thinks it over. "In that case... I'll accept your offer."

You smile sweetly. This isn't that bad. He didn't even ask for a deal. You stand on your hooves and give his cheek a little kiss. He beams at you as he takes hold of his signature cane.

"Oh I think I'm going to enjoy this!"

"Haha, so do I... B- But let's make you something to eat before you get all excited again..."

"That's a wonderful idea darling! And I might as well tell you about Susan's new act while you're at it."

Alastor feels a warmth he hasn't in a long time. As you work on preparing food for him, he seems content and somewhat at peace. But then, like clockwork, the desire is going to build up again. Through the week the rutting hits him anew and he becomes extremely short-tempered. He has to change rooms when Charlie starts singing and he's constantly arguing with Husk.

Alastor surprises himself.

During the times he does manage to control his primitive urges, he's actually avoiding you. He has this idea that he would end up hurting you if things ever escalated fully between you two.

Could this mean that he actually cares about your wellbeing?

He is an overlord. He is the one and only radio demon, there's no way he has a soft spot for his fellow deer demon -who had relieved him of weeks of pent up tension just with their touch.

You, on the other hand, feel no shame nor guilt for your little encounter with Alastor in the kitchen. If anything, the fact that he's still in his mating season is making you wet, longing for more.

One fateful night, all of you're sitting together, you across from Alastor's armchair... and it's impossible to not look down. He has a prominent bulge and you're not even surprised. However, when you look back up, you freeze like a... well, you do freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, because he is staring at you so very intensely.

The air feels thick all of a sudden and his gaze implies many things -to your delight. He excuses himself shortly after, but not before giving you a slight nod. He wants you now. He needs you now.

Experiencing a slight Deja vu, you find yourself knocking on his door the very same night. The Deja vu intensifies at the sound of static coming from the other side of the door. You decide to let yourself in when there's no answer. "Al?"

A pair of big and intricate antlers comes in your vision. The smell of him floods your senses. It's intoxitacing, addictive. You want him too.

Alastor wastes no time.

He pushes you up against the nearest wall, his body pressing tightly against yours. His breath is coming in ragged gasps, his eyes full of lust and desire. The demon growls, baring his teeth in a feral grin.

In one swift motion, he tears your clothes from your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable before him. His eyes roam over your exposed flesh, his lips parted in a wicked grin.

With an animalistic growl, he buries his face between your breasts, sucking on your nipples with rough abandon. You moan and arch your back, the sensation sinfully satisfying. Noticing your response, Alastor's movements become even more frenzied. He reaches down to grip your hips, lifting you up onto the wall.

You then unzip his pants, lost in the haze of your increasing desire for him. Alasor groans when you do that, his hips bucking forward as you free his cock from its confines. It slaps against your lower stomach -rigid and angry.

With another feral growl, Alastor turns you around so that you're facing the wall -gaining a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your already dripping entrance. Maybe he's not that experienced, but right now he seems to be driven by some infallible instinct. His finger doesn't stay in your cunt for long though, since the man is getting desperate to claim you as his -in a much more effective fashion.

You turn you head to the side and lock eyes with him. You shiver, almost scared at the pure hunger on his face. He thrusts into you with brutal force, driving his cock inside you deep and hard. His hips start pistoning against your ass, as he takes you without mercy. He's breeding, essentially. It's not meant to be slow or soft.

The gentleman you knew is gone for now, but you're digging your nails in his shoulders and letting out whines and moans nonetheless.

With each thrust, he growls like a beast claiming his prize. Alastor's eyes are wild and feral, reflecting the primal lust that consumes him. His heavy balls are slapping against your skin. You're turning to jelly slowly but surely, surrendering to him in way that feels natural to you -not forced.

Your old friend grunts in both pain and pleasure, losing himself in the heat of the moment. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving marks on your hips that show his possessiveness.

You reach behind you, grabbing his thighs to somehow ground yourself from the onslaught of pleasure in your core. A guttural moan escapes him as you touch his sensitive flesh. His hips buck against yours, driving himself deeper inside you and your eyes roll back in your head.

Alastor continues to pound into you relentlessly, his cock throbbing with each powerful stroke. He's sweating and he starts taking off his clothes -in a uncharacteristically clumsy manner.

He can't take it anymore, your tightening walls becoming overwhelming for him to bear. Feeling the pressure building within him, he growls low in his throat and picks up the pace even more.

The new speed he fucks you in has you seeing stars, the knot on your stomach snapping without warning. You cry out his name loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear -but you simply don't care.

He moans your name as well, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives himself deeper into you one last time. His body shudders violently as he reaches the height of his own orgasm. Hot, thick cum is filling you up and there's so much of... It's dripping out of you and onto the carpet.

He finally did it. He's mated. He's bred you.

Spent and panting heavily, Alastor collapses on you, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breath -and teeth- on your skin as you try to catch your breath. His dick is softening inside you, but he doesn't pull out just yet. His primal instinct is still active and making sure you take every last drop of his seed.

After you both relax in the present silence for a bit, he casually lifts you up and places you on the bed -the manhandling making you blush profusely, but he doesn't seem to notice. He lets out a sound close to purring as he lays down next to you, spooning you.

You sigh, feeling exhausted and simultaneously content. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already fallen asleep.

Your heartbeat has turned back to normal and you find shelter in his long and elegant neck, as you start dozing off into a peaceful and dreamless slumber.

He's not cold or ignorant the next morning.

...that morning ends up with him grasping at the air, as if searching for something to hold on to, as your head bobs up and down under the sheets.

It becomes common knowledge that Alastor's mood improves significantly after having sex with you. Something that does occur a couple more times in the spam of a week or so.

You knew the rutting was coming to an end when his desperate and forceful claiming -usually from behind- became passionate love making.

There was this one night...

Like a true gentleman of his time, Alastor had made love to you with deep, sensual thrusts as your hands had gotten lost in his fluffy hair. You had been underneath him.

Your orgasm had been accompanied by a soundless moan as you'd thrown your head back and he'd nuzzled your neck, breath labored and a frown on his face as he'd come shortly after you. You had let him fall asleep on you that night, both of you panting, sweat covering you.

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he is asleep, you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless next him. So you gently start caressing his ears -and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch, without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one.

Is this love? Maybe someday.

The End??

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[a-mint-bear]

You're Just What I Need

Male Yandere x Reader

You and your new... bedmate? Friend? Are starting to warm up to each other. But as safe as you're feeling, you can't help but wonder what his deal is. And if everything is actually okay here...

Part 2 of Comfort Object

[content warning for depicted violence and mentions of violence/murder]

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It was an awkward silence while your mind seemed to run through what he’d asked you. Weighing every option, every pro and con. He wanted to try and say something, anything that would be the right thing that would win you over and make you want to stay, but something told him to stay quiet, to let you come to him.

You’d asked him his name, and he’d been all too eager. Which was… unusual for him. He had different names he used for different people, so no one really knew him. But for you…

“Colin. My name's Colin.” 

It felt right to tell you his real name, like he was starting to feel like himself again. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you repeat it back to him. You were the only one who knew him now. And he wanted to know you too. 

After another moment of horrible silence and then you agreed. You would stay another night with him. You did ask if you were fine to stay for a few hours before coming back, and while he wanted to say you could stay as long as you wanted, he reeled it in. 

“Of course.” he realized he was still holding your hands, and he got it together, letting them go gently so as not to scare you off. “Take as long as you need.”

But you must’ve been exhausted because when he came back from the bathroom, you were asleep again. He wanted to lie next to you, so much that it hurt. It’d been so long since he’d wanted to sleep instead of desperately needing to. He wanted to hold you, or be held by you, lulled into the call of you until he was whole again. 

He wanted to be with you. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted someone. Beyond how their death could bring him that momentary peace. 

But if he was going to keep you around, he needed to get a few things.

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You didn’t remember passing out again that morning, but when you woke up, you were alone. You spotted a note on the bedside table that said he’d be back in a bit. 

You couldn’t help but be a bit afraid that accepting this strange deal was a stupid mistake. That you weren’t safe here. 

It would be… okay if you had to go back out on the streets that night. Either situation was less risky than staying at a homeless shelter. 

If you were recognized by the wrong person…

If you were found…

You shook off the sick, panicked feeling that hit deep in your gut. You’d kept yourself hidden so far. There’d been a couple close calls, but... you always got away. This place was safe, you kept telling yourself.

As you spiraled down, Colin came back. He had a few bags with him, smiling at you just as warmly as he had that morning. 

You weren’t scared of him, not exactly, but it was hard to trust him fully. 

“You’ve gotta be starving.” He laughed, setting the bags down on the dresser close by. He handed you one of the plastic grocery bags, his fingers brushing against yours. “Sorry, I got a few options, I don't know what you like.”

He’d brought you warm soup and sandwiches from a nearby corner store deli, he informed you. It was all heavenly and made you feel so toasty and warm. He made it a bit awkward, just watching you eat, but you were too hungry to mind much. He showed you some of his other purchases as you ate, calling them “supplies”. 

A few essentials, products for he bathroom you needed. Some snacks he put away in the mini fridge beside the bed. A pair of plush house slippers, he smiled, joking about how the bathroom floor was like ice in the morning. A plush, thick blanket. One much nicer than the motel linens. And a set of warm pajamas for the chilly nights. Better than the sweater and jeans you'd slept in that night. 

It was nice of him, really. But something about it was just a little…

In a motel/hotel-type setting, it might just seem like little things to make your stay more comfortable, but for this…

Did he hope you’d be staying… for a while? Not just a second night? Or was he just being nice?

You pushed it out of your head. You could cross that bridge when you came to it. If that bridge had even been built at all. 

“I got your clothes from your bag and did a load here before I left.” He admitted after a moment, seeming worried. “I’m sorry for going through your stuff, I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to do something nice.”

It felt oddly intimate, somehow more so than sleeping next to him. But laundry was an expense you couldn’t afford, and you had so few pieces of clothing to your name anymore. Not much more than what you had on at the moment. 

You told him it was okay, and again, he just smiled. That smile of his was too much.

It’d been so long since you’d gotten such a seemingly genuine bit of kindness, ever since you found yourself more or less homeless. It was almost too much, like you didn’t know what to do with it. 

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It’d been a long time since he’d felt so… here, this present for this long. 

The days and nights used to bleed together, one long suffocating bit of nothing, broken up by sudden fits and bursts of unspeakable violence. And again, on things went, as they always did. But here he was, with you, and he was feeling… okay. It’d been so long since he felt even close to okay.

The voices were still there, buzzing at the back of his brain. But they were calmer, almost… sated. The same way they were after he killed. When it wore him out enough to finally sleep.

Back when things made sense, back when he was still a person. With every part of him still there. It started with nights, one after the other where sleep just wouldn’t come. Or maybe it had been the voices that came to him first. He couldn’t remember anymore. 

Most days, he made money under the table at a seedy bar across town, cleaning up after the day drunks and ignoring the shady deals that went down in the back alley. 

He worked evenings at the front desk of the motel, sometimes he cleaned up too when the usual cleaner was off. He wasn’t supposed to stay all night, but sometimes when he was days away from another kill, he just stayed behind the counter and no one cared. The owner was a creep, who kept spotty records at best of who stayed so that he could look the other way when questionable folks stayed, jacking up the nightly rates.

Wanted men, hired guns, predators and perverts alike. Anyone who didn’t want police looking for them and would pay extra for the owner’s silence. And for his own silence, Colin got a hefty cut. It came with a free room, even if he didn’t sleep. Not paying rent left him with plenty of money for the people he needed.

And there had been a few times, it was hard to remember how many exactly, where he’d caught one of the guests doing something they really shouldn’t’ve been doing and taken them out instead of finding another victim. If he made a little extra by going through their things afterwards and maybe selling some of it to a silent connection or two, then that was his business.

Not to mention living in the motel made doing what he did a bit easier, doing it on his “home turf”. He knew all the nooks and crannies, all the blind spots and which rooms were occupied. It was isolated and under the radar, which was exactly what he needed.

He lived his life like he didn’t exist. No one knew him, and no one remembered him. He could move through the city without anyone caring he was there. He needed it that way, if he wanted to keep killing.

And he did. He needed to.

That’s the way it had to be, he used to tell himself. 

Until you answered his ad.

Every moment he spent with you made him so grateful that you’d found him. 

And now that you were here, with him…

He couldn’t go back to that.

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You settled into bed with him for the second night, wondering how long he would keep you around for.

But the night turned into day again, and again, you were still sleeping next to him. You were still here with him.

He left during the day for hours, though he seemed a bit reluctant about it, he needed to go to work. You didn’t know what he did, but he reassured you that staying another night and sticking around during the day was no problem for him. And each morning, you woke up to the same payment under your pillow. 

Did he have a good, steady job? Was he secretly loaded? Did money just not mean much to him? Or was this whole setup just that important to him that money was the last thing on his mind?

You tried not to think about if you were, in a weird way, taking advantage of the situation. Taking advantage of him. You pushed it all down, trying not to think about what would come later, just  trying to fall asleep as he snored lightly in your arms.

It still felt just a bit odd and awkward, but… kind of nice.

The way he looked at you, with that warm, almost intense stare that felt like it practically surrounded you when you caught him staring. And when he saw that you saw him, shied away, cheeks on fire. But after a while, he didn’t look away. Only smiled that warm smile, looking almost smitten.

When you’d first met him, he’d had such a hard time looking you in the eye. He’d been so awkward and anxious. And he still was, no question. But now it felt like his eyes never left you. And…

It wasn’t the worst thing… It felt like too much to admit out loud, but still. 

Colin had been kind to you, in this odd way of his. Maybe if you had somewhere or someone to call home, you’d find all this too weird and too intimate. You probably would’ve never even met. But here, now, he was slowly becoming everything. Your conversation partner, the person you shared your meals with, where you laid your head at night… 

Having someone who saw you, really saw you, after knowing what it felt like to be invisible? It was… comforting, to say the very least. Warm and inviting and...here. It pulled you out of a very dark place when that was all you knew.

And when his hands found you in his sleep, tucking his head to your chest, it was hard not to think of him as… yours.

You held back, because outside of the closeness you’d found at night in this cheap but oh-so warm motel bedding, you didn’t know how he saw you. If he didn’t want you… in that way, and he pushed you away? You’d be left with nothing again. And not even the money you’d earned so far would be worth going back to that feeling.

It wasn’t just the warm bed and the food, the shower, the money or the sense of safety you felt with him that you’d regret losing. 

It was him. 

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss sleeping next to someone, but deep down, you knew that was a lie. Especially now when you’d had to isolate yourself so much. He was really the first person you’d been able to really talk to for a long while.

He stopped by for meals together during the day, and when eleven p.m. hit, he was in for the night. When you were alone, resting and alone with your thoughts, you would be tempted to leave, even if it was to go out for a bit to pick up something you needed. But when you touched the door handle to the room, you were hit with a wave of all that too familiar anxiety and helplessness.

No one knew you were here, except Colin. You were hidden here, safe. If you left, there was a chance they would find you. 

So you stayed. Just waiting for Colin to come back. Seeing him was quickly becoming the best part of your day, as embarrassing as that was sometimes. He was starting to become… more. To you.

You wish you knew how to feel about that. 

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You seemed to have these walls around you, he thought. 

You weren’t… afraid, not entirely. It was more like…

Like someone had hurt you. Like you were too hurt to let him in, beyond holding him at night. 

You had been with him for almost a week by then, and everything had been calm. 

Somehow… he trusted-... yeah... Trusted whatever this was. He wanted you to stay, and every time he came back to the motel, you were still there. Waiting for him with a smile that said you were warming up to him. Trusting him just a little bit more.

In the quieter moments, before he fell asleep with you, sometimes he would hear them again. He almost felt like something was clutching at the back of his neck, stuck in that moment as the paranoid, conflicting thoughts played in a nauseating loop.

That no one could really help him.

That you were his salvation. 

That the safety he felt was a fluke and whatever this was couldn’t actually last.

That you knew he’d brought you here to kill you. 

That the only thing that’d saved you was something he’d never expected to feel, and it could stop at any time. 

That you would hurt him.

That he would hurt you.

That you should run.

That he should do whatever he could to keep you close.

Endlessly, all of it hammered away at his reasoning, pushing on the back of his eyes. 

But as he held you, the tension left his muscles. His thoughts quieted and he just focused on your sleeping face. Whatever had a hold on him felt so weak with you near. You were his. And nothing would take you away from him. 

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He was getting ready to leave one morning when you asked him something he somehow hadn’t prepared for. 

Why were you here?

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, barely meeting his eyes. 

“Why, uh…” He stumbled over his words. “Is something wrong?”

You were upsettingly quick to tell him that you were grateful that he’d let you stay here. For the food, for the money, and for not asking questions. It made his heart hurt how guarded you still seemed, but he let you go on. You said you just felt like you needed to understand, even just a little. 

You wondered out loud if you were just here to literally warm the bed, that maybe that was all you were good for anyway. Not like you had anything else to offer anyone.

He was frozen. He’d never had to comfort and reassure anyone before, at least not that he could remember. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?

You held yourself, like his silence confirmed your fears. Like you were so wary of everything. How long had it been since you could trust someone? 

He felt himself stop breathing when you laughed at your own worry, smiling up at him with tears in your eyes. You apologized, telling him never mind, that you were just being stupid.

He sat next to you, despite wanting to just hold you. He could see you were hurting, and he just wanted to make you... better.

“It’s okay, I just…” He wasn’t… this wasn’t him. But he needed to try. You needed this. “I can’t sleep. And…”

He hesitated, not knowing if it was right to say.

 “It’s… it’s a long story, but… I used to do… something else. To get to sleep. And if I didn’t…” 

He remembered every kill. When he couldn’t sleep, they were fuzzy on the edge of his thoughts. But now they were so clear. He remembered their faces. How they struggled. The burn in his muscles from the kill. How he felt the relief of exhaustion wash over him like nothing else could bring him. 

“If I didn’t do it, I wouldn’t get to sleep for days. Things got... bad. But then I found you! O-or, I guess you found me, ya know?”

Carefully, slowly, he took your hand in his, gauging if you were okay with it. You didn’t pull away, and he knew he must look so weak to you. So pathetic. But it was hard to let go.

“I really do need you, ya know?” His thumb grazing the back of your hand, laying his head on your shoulder. He closed his eyes, trusting you beyond everything that told him he shouldn’t. “With you, everything is gonna be okay.”

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He had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was remembering something unpleasant. You wondered if it was drugs or something else he might be scared or embarrassed to admit. 

He was being so vulnerable with you. And it should’ve made you feel so uncomfortable, like it was too much to put on you for someone you barely knew. But it didn’t. 

It didn’t bother you at that moment. It was an odd reason, if a real “reason” at all. 

When he finally left, all you could do was sit on the bed, your chin resting on your knees as you held your legs up against you, the position making you feel more alert, safer. You stared at the door, fearing every sound, every shadow that passed by the door as other guests walked to their rooms.

You were hidden away here, you told yourself. No one knew you were here. Except Colin. He’d be back for lunch soon and you could relax for a bit before he had to leave again.

He needed you. You weren’t a burden to him. It was weird, but it was enough to be useful to him, even if it was just for a bit.

Wasn’t it?

It weighed on you as you tried to get to sleep that night was a bunch of questions you’d pushed out of your head until then.

How long were you going to be allowed to stay here? 

How was everything going to be fine now when it wasn’t going to last?

He needed you? Who said that to someone they barely knew?

If he needed you to be able to sleep…

Would he find someone else once you were gone?

He was asleep in your arms as you layed there, wide awake with this anxious, enveloping worry. It kind of hit you then, that as comfortable as you were here, with him… as safe as you felt…

If he knew about you, what you’d been through… would he still want you around?

None of this could last forever. It had only worked out that way so far because you had nowhere else to go. 

What did you expect? You scolded yourself. It’s not like it was anything real. You weren’t dating, or lovers. You weren’t even friends, not really. 

You didn’t really know anything about him… It all started eating away at you. 

Him, depending so much on you.

You, just as dependent on him.

And you… making more out of this situation with him than it was.

Even then, with all those thoughts swarming in your head, you still felt his body heat on you. You still held him close and fell into the rhythm of his breathing. You still craved that closeness, that certainty that when you woke up in the morning, he would still be there.

Deep down, you wanted so badly to stay. But you couldn’t open up to him like that…

You couldn’t get hurt again. 

If you stayed too long… 

It would be better for both of you if you just left.

. . .

“I have to go out again.” He sighed, grabbing his shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed to get them on. “It’s my day off tomorrow, so we can spend the whole day together.”

You felt guilty for what you were about to do, but you didn’t know if you could do it if he was around. Either he’d want you to stay and make it harder to leave or he’d smile and wish you well. 

You weren’t sure which one would hurt more. 

He left with that sweet, warm smile, and just for a moment… You wished he would kiss you goodbye. 

That was as much as you were willing to let yourself feel. 

It was for the best.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

His hands shook, the note tearing suddenly under his panicked, unsteady grip.

“No…” He was hit by a wave of revoltion and panic, tossing it away like it’d burned him. “No… no, fuck fuck fuck FUCK-!!”

He held himself, trying to steady the lurching unease hitting him deep. His shirt rode up as he curled forward into the old, shaggy carpet, the pain let him focus as his nails dug into his skin just above his hips. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay…” he tried to soothe himself, but it was already hitting him. 

You were gone. And he had no clue where to find you. If you never came back…

. . .

“If I knew where they went, I would be with them!!” he shouted back, hating how clear the voices were already. He needed to calm down. “I have to… have to…”

His legs felt weak. You couldn’t be gone… He still needed you. If you were gone… it wouldn’t be long before everything fell apart again. Not long until the voices would be all he could hear, tormenting him until he could finally find sleep again.

Killing again was one thing, it didn’t matter how many people he needed.

He needed you more.

Desperately clawing at the blanket you’d left behind, like it would keep him from losing himself entirely. Pulling it close, it still smelled like you. He knew it was in his head, but he could swear it was still warm, like you’d only just left.

There was a deafening pounding on the motel room door. 

“Ryan! You piece of shit!!” A loud voice from the door called to him. “You were supposed to be at the front desk a half hour ago!! I’m gettin’ money somewhere else! If you’re spacin’ out again, I’m gonna wring your fuckin’ neck!!”

Ryan… That was the name the manager knew him by. It sounded like he’d been drinking, he’d probably come straight from the bar when he got a call that no one was at the desk to check them in.

He stood up, moving wordlessly over to the door, opening it to his furious boss.

“I knew you were here!!” he shouted in “Ryan’s” face, his breath reeked of cheap whisky. “You been cryin’ or somethin’?? Fuckin’ answer me!!”

He stuck his head out, looking around outside the door. One way. Then the other. 

No one was around.

“What?! Got nothin’ to say to me you little-”

He grabbed the man’s shoulders, driving his knee under the bottom of his ribs with all his strength. The drunk doubled over, gasping and wheezing, dropping to his knees. 

He was suddenly dragged by his shirt collar to the bathroom, and before he could rasp out in confusion or anger or fear, He felt the dull ache of being grabbed by his hair. But it was quickly replaced by the pain of his face being repeatedly bashed into the granite bathroom countertop. He quickly went limp.

When Colin finally stopped, it was only because his hands were too slick to hold on any longer. 

“Gone…” He panted. “You’re gone. Where… where are you…”

He had to find you. 

When he did… 

It wasn’t how he wanted to get closer to you. He wanted you to open up to him, to tear down those walls you had built to keep him out. He wanted to make you think of him as yours, as someone you could hold on to. Someone you needed, like he needed you.

You always seemed so... on edge.

If you needed to feel safe, then…

Colin would make sure he was the only safe place for you to go.

Even if he had to make you see it.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

hello everybody! would ya believe i rewrote this like four times?? but i'm really glad i did, as this is the best version so far.

hope it lives up to part 1, and that you all like it c:

once again, if you know and hate/are repulsed by a Colin in your life, i'm so sorry

can't have a romance without stupid, avoidable misunderstandings, ya know? but in this case it just seems smart on the reader's end. don't answer sketchy internet ads, kids

originally, this had just as many words but nothing really happened. it was more of a chapter where we learned all the same information, but he emotions explored felt, idk flatter? like it was saying all the same stuff but it was just not quite right.

Colin started off being very vague about his killing, but it didn't really fit his character. as much as he'd rather not kill, he doesn't feel guilty about it. to him, it's just something he does. like an annoying chore. but he's present enough to know you'd get scared off if you knew.

so as a result, there are some cw tags on this post

don't know how specific i should be about the reader's past, if getting too specific would make their side of it take the reader out of it.

just know they're basically in hiding, and they don't just leave town for a reason, i promise

haven't thought of what little yandere pet name he'd use for the reader yet, but it's in the works

i had some backstory stuff for Colin too, but it just felt out of place, so if you wanna know some stuff, send an ask ✌️

part three is where he really gets to be an all-out yandere, so here's hoping y'all come back for that (eventually lol) this part was originally going to be the last (or at least where everything happened) but then it just turned into more and more until i was like screw it, part 3

i'm sure i'll spot some typos or unfinished sentences in here somewhere when i re-read this later so bear with me please

i got laundry to do, peace out y'all

eta: i forgot to make them kiss!! def in part 3, it didn't quite fit here.

i can't remember if anyone asked me to tag them for part 2 and i can't find any mentions, but something tells me i was supposed to and i dropped the ball...

im not entirely happy with the header, but it was last minute and ive been rewriting this all day and just wanted to move on with my day lol might replace it? but im lazy so probably not *shrug*

[blood-smiles]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 ! 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 (??)

❝ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! ♡ This is yandere content, suggestive content ahead, you have been warned ! ♡ ❞

࣪ ִֶָ☾. What to do? You had to go back to schooling, even as much as you hated it.. You needed that god for saken diploma.

ִֶָ☾. This is how you ended up alone on your first day, you had hoped that a brave soul at campus would approach you. Like one of those super popular nice people approaching you and then boom! You became the next sensation at your college!

ִֶָ☾. You would be delusional if you thought a silly thing like that would happen.

ִֶָ☾. You wandered around campus aimlessly, in look for a new friend. You searched the crowd, looking for anyone as lonely as you were.

ִֶָ☾. Your eyes met a males' own sparkling indigo hues. Bingo.

ִֶָ☾. He returned your stare, his ears and face glowing in a subtle tone of red. You reminded yourself: Some people get nervous about eye contact! Yeah.. haha.. Totally!

ִֶָ☾. You smiled at him, asking nicely if you could have a seat at the table where he was, to which he eagerly nodded, scooting away the stacks and stacks of books he had.

ִֶָ☾. Math? Dude, really? So he's a mathematics major..? He chuckled nervously as he adjusted his thick rimmed glasses, noticing your eyes on the number filled textbooks.

"I'm Elio.. Is it your first day here?" The soft sound of his voice snapped you out of trying to decipher whatever hieroglyphics were printed on the paper.

ִֶָ☾. He lit up in happiness when you spoke your name. Okay.. Unique reaction to a normal piece of information.

ִֶָ☾. You took a closer look at his face, it seemed refined, like a dude who hit the books for fun. But you couldn't help but let your gaze drift to the piercing holes in his ears, no jewelry present but so so many piercings..

ִֶָ☾. His almost black hair gleamed in the light, an unmistakable dark blue undertone present in the silky strands. The bottom portion of his hair around his neck dyed a very light sky blue.

ִֶָ☾. These were small, extremely minimal details you wouldn't have picked up if it wasn't for your super duper brave choice of coming up to him and sitting down with him.

”Who is that talking to that prick over there..? By now he would have dumped soup on anyone..”

“I know, always so hostile for no reason! I wonder who pissed in his coffee..”

ִֶָ☾. Your ears pricked at the comments from the other table not too far away from you, Elio seemed nice though..? He didn’t toss food on you or even seem annoyed.

ִֶָ☾. He had noticed too, glaring out of the corner of his eyes, pitch black eyes narrowing in a malicious stare.

ִֶָ☾. These nobodies were soiling his chances with you already.. Not even an hour in and they were already gossiping and honking like a gaggle of geese.

ִֶָ☾. You cast your attention upon him again, taken aback by the soulless stare he directed at the small group of people next to you.

ִֶָ☾. Whoops. He hoped you didn’t see him like that for too long. He smiled nervously, his more timid persona coming back just like before.

“Your lesson is starting soon, I have a free period! I’ll go with you!” He sprung up from his seat, wrapping his arm around your own.

ִֶָ☾. You had so many questions. 

ִֶָ☾. How did he know that? And why was he getting so touchy already? You had barely been with him for an hour, yet he acted like he knew you since childhood..

ִֶָ☾. As the both of you passed by the shit-talking table, Elio ever so slightly turned his head, his arms hugging your bicep closer to his chest as he shot them the dirtiest look he could muster.

“Cmon, silly. We don’t want to be late.” Elio giggled as he dragged you away.

ִֶָ☾. Elio wasn’t normal, you had noticed. He wasn’t a bad guy, he just was quite… unique in his mannerisms. Quite the specimen!

Okay he is nerdy.. but why he kinda..

ִֶָ☾. Your suspicion of him not being what he appeared as at first was correct however. He really had more than what met the eye, you would have been a fool if you only thought that the ugly red and black flannel shirt he wore was all there was to him.

ִֶָ☾. You had stumbled upon him one day, lukewarm coffee in hand, some rushing scholar ran past you, like a cartoon character leaving fire tracks while speeding. They bumped harshly into your shoulder, knocking off your balance and uncapping your coffee, spilling all over your friend..

ִֶָ☾. You panicked, grabbing tissues in your hand and helping in patting down the ugly flannel in hopes of soaking up the drying coffee, you missed the way he gasped softly in surprise and a little of excitement. If you could touch him like that again he would’ve let himself get soaked time and time again.

ִֶָ☾. He flushed at the nimbe touch of your hand on his body, you mistook the embarrassment on his face for irritation and shrunk back in fear of the so called “mean” attitude many students muttered about.

ִֶָ☾. You had witnessed it, once you were running late and noticed a girl walking towards him, shifting her weight from one foot to another as she opened her mouth to talk.

ִֶָ☾. “ Don’t you understand? I don’t fucking care, I already have a lover. Stop looking at me like a kicked puppy, or are you deaf too? Well? Scram.” He rudely interrupted her speech, irritation radiating from him. And jeez. Was he scary, a dark shadow cast over his face, giving him even more of a menacing look. This was him? Was he really like this when you weren’t around? 

ִֶָ☾. The girl gasped, shoulders tensing as she began to cry while running away, head buried between hands. You stared at her as she dashed past you, mascara dripping down her blushed cheeks. Elio waved at you, as if nothing had happened.

ִֶָ☾. You grimaced at the memory and how horrible it would feel if you were in that girls’ shoes. Being publicly humiliated is one of the worst kinds of humiliation.

ִֶָ☾. You apologized a million times, he shook his head, offering a pretty smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Was he laughing at you..? He let out a little happy sigh, peeling the coffee drenched shirt from his torso.

ִֶָ☾. “Don’t worry, it’s alright. I have an extra shirt in my bag just in case.” He waved his hand dismissively, it’s no biggie for him. He almost thanked you for touching him, he might have gotten a nosebleed but by some unknown miracle he didn’t start bleeding on you.

ִֶָ☾. He dragged you into a classroom, unbuttoning his long sleeve and slowly slipping it off his shoulders. You were trying to NOT look but gods. Lord. Was it hard.

ִֶָ☾. It was like he was teasing you, wanting you to look and give into your perverted ways.

ִֶָ☾. You couldn’t stop yourself as you peeked at him, his back wasn’t turned as he focused on folding the dirtied shirt, but that didn’t stop you from looking.

ִֶָ☾. He had so many piercings. How? How would anyone guess he was so.. yum.

ִֶָ☾. His body was a perfect mix of slim and just the slightest bit of muscle, the dark metal balls surfacing from his skin and gleaming in the dim lighting.

ִֶָ☾. His soft chest rose and fell gently, his nipples decorated by dangling circular metal jewelry. His smooth navel adorned with another piece of black metal. the taut skin of his hips pierced with three little beads on each hip.

ִֶָ☾. Okay! Enough staring. Don’t look, don’t look, don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook!

ִֶָ☾. “(Y/N)? Can you pass me the shirt?” Right. Right! The black band t-shirt in your hands, you nodded wordlessly, fumbling with the fabric and gently passing it to him.

ִֶָ☾. “What’s wrong? You aren’t looking me in the eye.” He asked you, his voice holding an edge of teasing. You could hear the smile in his voice.

ִֶָ☾. He knew why.

“We..Well, I didn’t know you were the type of guy to have so many piercings..” you answered only one of his questions, you couldn’t let him know that now you perhaps had a puppy crush on him.

“Awh.. You’re so cute.. Never did I think I would be able to fluster you in such a way..” he cooed out of nowhere, moving to get closer to you.

“You can touch too you know..” Elio shyly added, grabbing you by the wrists and gently placing them over his waist.

“If it’s you, then I don’t mind at all. ♡”

[no-144444]

different- o.piastri

summary: the differences are starting to show ow that oscar is going to be present in mia's life, and in turn, yours.

pairing: oscar piastri x ex! single mom! fem! reader

part one | part two

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You were terrified. The past few weeks had been… strange, to say the least. You’d seen Oscar every single day of the last month. He moved his entire life to London in the span of a week for Mia. It reminded you of the teenage Oscar who would move mountains for you, and you were glad Mia got that side of him too.

It had been a whirlwind of emotions since Australia, and you’d watched every Grand Prix since then from your London house. Mia adored it. You told your family and friends about Oscar coming into Mia’s life, and there were varying degrees of support, but Teresa, your closest friend, hated Oscar. Every time she saw him it was either a roll of the eyes or a passive aggressive comment, but he took it all in good faith and just smiled and continued talking. It was a lot though, you’d been Oscar-less for 4 years, just seeing him through a screen, and now he was coming to your apartment everyday with a coffee for you, and something for Mia. Now, you two texted daily. Now, he was there again, and it freaked you out. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Oscar sat outside in his car, psyching himself up for the conversation that was about to happen. How the fuck dop you tell a 4 year old that you’re her dad and you didn’t know about her for 4 years, and now you want to be in her life every single day? How do you apologise for the missed time? How would he apologise to you if she got mad at you? What if she hated him forever and he lost her and you? How could he prove to both of you that he was serious about you two?

Beth: You’ve been MIA since last week, what’s up Osc? Call me please xxx

He cursed himself and the universe's impeccable timing. Beth was the girl he’d been seeing for a few months, and like all the girls he’d dated since you, bore a striking resemblance. He didn’t know what to tell her, how to explain it, or if he even should. His first thought was to ask you what he should do, what you’d be comfortable with him telling, and then he realised he would then be admitting to ‘moving on’, when he really only wanted you. He was at a stand-still in his brain, and muted her messages before going up to your front door. 

“Hey,” you smiled, opening the door to him, Mia on your hip. The picture in front of him made his heart ache a little bit. He could imagine himself coming home to it every night, after every race, for the past few years. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, walking inside and taking Mia out of your arms as she reached for him. She softened the ache a bit. “Hey Mia.”

“Hey Osc!” she bundled into his arms, squirming around. She directed him to her playroom where they spent about 3 hours together, before you came in to set her down for her nap. 

“Do you want to…?” you offered, gesturing to her bedroom. “I can show you, just in case you need to know one day.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and followed behind you. “Yeah, after you.” 

He watched as you gently tucked her in, a soft smile on your face as she looked at you with all the love in the world. He could’ve sworn his heart was trying to claw itself out of his chest to get to you two, but he swallowed back the tears, and left the room behind you, after kissing Mia on the forehead. 

“She really likes you,” you pointed out as you made him a coffee. 

“Thank you for letting me be part of this,” he nodded. “It means… everything to me. She does.”

You nodded. “You’re a natural.” 

He took the cup you handed him with a grateful nod, and you sat across from him. “How are you doing?” 

You stared at him like a deer in headlights for a moment then looked back down at your own mug. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course,” he assured you. “I want you to be.”

“I’m a bit… overwhelmed? If that’s the right word. This is all just… a lot,” you explained. “It’s just… I was a single mom for like 4 years, and now I have you and I guess I’m just still getting used to it. Not that it’s bad or anything, it’s just… different. But Mia and you get on so well, and you’ve been so kind throughout this whole process, so, thank you for that. It’s just-”

“Weird?” he offered, and you chuckled. 

“Weird,” you confirmed. “What about you?” 

“It’s been weird, obviously. But, I adore her. I knew I had cared about people before, but this is just… different. I didn’t think I could care about someone so much after you-” He cut himself off with a sigh. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s alright,” you shook your head. “I get what you mean.” 

He nodded. “She’s wonderful. She’s so smart. She’s so funny. She’s so… you, honestly,” he chuckled.

“She’s a mini me that looks like a mini you,” you laughed. He’d missed that laugh. He’d missed you. 

He nodded. “Well, yeah.”

“How does it feel to be leading the championship?” you asked, sipping your tea. 

He didn’t even think about F1 unless he was in the car. He just raced, and then rushed home to see you and Mia. He shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it,” he breathed out a long sigh. “I guess it feels good?”

“You haven’t thought about it?” you gawked. 

“I usually rush home after races,” he admitted. “I like to talk to Mia about it.” 

“Oh,” you looked at him, then back down at your mug. “Well, y’know, we could come to the next one, if you want her there.”

“I’d want you there too,” he took your hand. “Both of you.” 

You nodded. “We could be there.”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, his thumb running over your knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“Alright,” you smiled flatly, but he could see something in your eye, something that made him think he was doing something right. “We’ll make it happen.” 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“Oscar… is my dad?” Mia questioned. “How?” 

“Well, Oscar and I used to be in a relationship, and we loved each other very much. And we broke up before I knew I was pregnant with you, and I didn’t have a way to tell him you were on the way, but we saw each other in Australia and I told him then, and that’s why he’s been coming over so much,” you explained calmly and gently. 

She nodded for a moment. “That makes sense. Why did you two break up?” 

Both of you cringed and he turned to look at you. 

“Sometimes people may be the right fit, but it might just not be the right time in their lives for them to be together. That’s what happened with me and Oscar,” you spoke slowly, basically grasping at straws to think of something to explain your very complicated break up. 

Oscar tried not to let himself get excited at the fact that you still thought he was right right person for you, but it did make him fell quite good about himself. Right person, wrong time? He could work with that.

“So do I call Oscar; dad, or Oscar?” she asked, glazing over your explanation. 

“You can call me whatever you want,” he smiled. “Oscar, Osc, dad, anything.”

She nodded, studying him again. “I think I’ll call you dad,” he decided. “I like you a lot dad. Are you going to stick around now?” 

He chuckled. “I’m going to stick around until the end of time Mia,” he promised. “Swear.”

“And you and mom are going to get back together?” she asked sceptically.

“Umm,” he thought about it for a moment. “We don’t know.”

“Well you should. Mommy has been single since I was born, and she needs someone who’ll love her,” she blurted out as you covered your face with your hands. 

“Mia,” you groaned. 

“What?! It’s the truth!” Mia shrieked. 

“Anyway,” you changed the topic. “Do you have any other questions?” 

“Not really,” she admitted. “Am I going to have to go between dad and moms house?”

You looked at each other. “We haven’t really talked about that yet,” Oscar admitted. “Is that something you don’t want?” 

“No. It seems like a lot. I want both of you in the same house with me,” she shook her head. 

You turned to each other again. “Well, we’ll talk about it,” you smiled back at Mia. 

“Can dad stay over tonight?” She asked. “I want to watch a movie with him.”

“Of course he can sweetheart,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get dinner started.”

“I’ll clean up the playroom!” She called out as she ran in the direction of her room. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“That wasn’t bad,” he announced as he chopped up carrots. 

“Not at all,” you nodded, your mind a million miles away. 

“I thought she’d take it worse,” he sighed. “Oh, and I really don’t have to stay over tonight-“

“Nonsense,” you brushed him off. “We have a spare bedroom. It’s all yours.” 

“Thank you, for all of this,” he smiled. “She genuinely means everything to me.” 

“That makes two of us,” you smiled, a genuinely, real smile. The ones he was so used to back in the day.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[barbatoss-bitch]

I LAUGHED I'M A CS MAJOR TOO AHAHAHAHAH MY BUM INTROVERT SELF COULD NEVER!

(yandere! ex crush x gn! reader) (cw: gaslighting, self harm)

you don't really remember why you liked him. he was one of those popular kids who only hung out with other popular kids and disrupted class. he was one of those guys who was effortlessly attractive and had the admiration of other girls and guys. he was basically the perfect guy.

you... you were a bit of a nerd. not an outcast, but certainly not popular. you had your own fair share of friends but that was about it. you were just average.

but him.

he...

he was out of your league, that much was certain. you fell for him anyway despite knowing that. maybe it was your teenage brain being delusional, seeing things as signs when there weren't any. when exactly you fell? you think it was because the two of you got paired for a project together in the final year. yes, that was probably when you started to fall for him.

he was nice.

he was nice.

and you fell for that. how foolish.

sure, he gave you attention and spent time with you after class... yeah he might have told you how beautiful you were when you laughed.... hell, he even gave you something you've always wanted all because he wanted to see you smile... but you shouldn't have taken those the romantic way! of course not! it's not like you and him could ever be together. you were too different from each other.

"you thought i liked you?"

his voice.

it was full of disgust. as though he were looking at something utterly filthy. trash. something so simply unworthy of his gaze. yet, there seemed to be a hint of hesitation behind them. as though he were afraid.

"come on, just because i treated you decently for the project... you're a good friend but..."

then it was pity. like you falling for him was something worth pitying. it was like you were a charity case and his attention was his donation. still, his words were hesitant, shaky.

"honestly, i wouldn't have talked to someone like you if it weren't for the project. you really think you're in my league?"

he was rambling at this point, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding eye contact. still, it was very clear how he felt about you. in your eyes, at least. he didn't like you, at all.

everything came crashing down. your fragile teen heart, the infatuation and rose eyed lens watering away as he continues to hurl hurtful things at you. his words seep deep into your wounds, causing the pain to burn even more.

someone like you.

was that how he saw you? just... someone? like you? how little did he think of you to not even address you as your own person? was all that kindness just a facade? did he really... dislike you that much?

"i... forget it. let's just finish the project and never speak about this again."

the unsaid words only left you hurting more. what was he going to say? what did he want to say? you'll never know because you fucked things up by telling him how you felt.

you never talked to him after the project. never looked at him, never spoke about him, you avoided him like he was the plague. even when... did he try approaching you after that? you don't remember. you don't want to remember.

thankfully, he wasn't all that bad. he never told anyone of your confession and you soon graduated high school without any further drama. you wonder if it was out of pity or just disgust. the sheer disgust of being associated with someone like you. of being confessed to by someone like you.

you decided to forget about him after that day and focus on yourself. so what if some guy rejected you? at least you have yourself, that's something.

you went to college, graduated with honors, and got a job in something you loved. all was great and life was good.

until it wasn't.

you saw him again. this time, instead of the popular high school kid, he was your neighbor that just moved in.

"u-uh..."

he had bags under his eyes, skin that was cold to the touch, and an appearance that looked like he was going to pass out at any second. yet he was still as handsome as ever. something about that disheveled look... sure he wasn't that golden boy he was back then but you couldn't deny that he was still handsome. handsome but tired.

you shake your head, temporarily putting those thoughts to the side. first, how were you supposed to greet him? do you act like you know him? act like he wasn't there and just walk off?

"welcome to the apartment complex, you new here?"

he nodded and his eyes lit up.

ah damn it.

thus was the start to your rekindling with him yet again. your ex crush, now your next door neighbor and friend. apparently he ended up in computer science and was unemployed. something about the current job market or whatever he was mumbling about. he moved out of his parent's house to try and find a job in a new place which is why he's here.

you two start out slow. greeting each other in the morning if you come across one another. then it evolved to going to the grocery store together. things were good. and it felt... nice having him around again.

eventually, the two of you end up befriending each other once again. how sweet! old friends rekindling the flame, right? wrong.

"i love you."

it came so suddenly, but also not really. you should've seen the signs and distanced yourself. the blushing, the increased codependency, his entire clingy boyfriend persona even though you're not together... now things have turned out like this and there's absolutely no way you're getting back with him. not when he's your ex-crush.

"uh..."

before you can say anything, he starts apologizing like his feelings are wrong.

"sorry... 'm sorry..."

he was crying. crying. on his knees, face wet with desperation as he dares not to touch you. his fists were clenched tight, nails breaking the skin on his palms as rushed words fall from his lips.

"i know i don't deserve you but please! i can't live without you!"

he wishes he had never said those harmful words all those years again. that ruined everything between the two of you.

he had really fallen for you all those years back in high school. that much was obvious with how much time he spent with you and how you're the only person to this day to remain in his heart.

but he made the mistake of choosing popularity.

back then, he chose his fake friends that didn't want anything to do with losers over his one true love. they saw his affection for you and called him out on it, causing him to panic and leave you in the dust. but it's okay... he's changed! really! couldn't you tell from how you hung out with him lately? he spends all his time with you, gives you gifts, and does whatever you want him too! he really just wants to show his love! honest!

"i can... i can be better! please, don't leave me!"

meanwhile you were just awkwardly standing there, watching as he bawled his eyes out. well... what now? you're not gonna accept him. definitely not.

sure, he has been treating you nicely recently but didn't he treat you nicely back then too? and what happened when you fell for that huh?

"please... just one chance. i won't hurt you again."

he won't hurt you but he will hurt himself. that's just common sense obviously. if you don't want him it must mean there's something wrong with him, and he'll be more than happy to punish himself for that.

anything for you.

"dude i just- you're not really my type."

that's true. you've grown from your high school self and while it is nice to have him as a friend again, you can't see him as a future partner.

he's just not that guy. and that's not the only reason. he's getting too dependent and clingy to you and it's weird. really weird. if that was his definition of treating you better it wasn't a really good one.

you watch silently as he sniffles, rubbing at his eyes before making eye contact again.

"you don't want me?"

you nod.

"really?"

you nod again.

"i guess it's a sign to end it all then..."

wait what?

"no no no- dude you can't kill yourself just because i rejected you!"

"why not? there's nothing to live for if I can't be yours."

the only sounds heard are the sounds of your breathing and his sniffling. the two of you are engaged in a deep staring contest that he wins as you pull away.

damn it, you didn't want him to die. why'd he say that? now things are awkward-

"there's no meaning in my life if you reject me. I'm just a useless man."

you sigh and rub your forehead.

what are you supposed to do now, huh? he's obviously not in the right state of mind and he doesn't seem to want to move unless you accept his confession.

"you-"

"no one likes me..."

okay that's it.

"listen, I'll go on one date. if after that I don't want to date you, please just move on."

there. nothing will go wrong now. he'll be happy and you'll have him as a friend.

"ah..."

unfortunately for you, you've underestimated a man who's desperate to make up for lost time.and he won't stop until he's gotten what he wants.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Cleaning out my drafts and stumbled across this horror piece. Minors DNI please.

Yandere Head Canons: The Dollhouse Husband

Yandere Living Doll x GN Reader x One Sided Neglectful Toymaker Husband

TW: yandere themes, unhealthy relationship dynamics, obsession, neglectful husband, unhappy arranged marriage, murder, horror, and gore (mentioned)

His face was beautiful, just like your husband’s, yet he wasn’t your husband. No, this adonic doll was an imposter. A crude imitation of your distant beau. A creation your husband, Jonathan, made out of cruelty so you’d stop clinging to him and your desire for him to love you. A doll he crudely named Johnny. The nickname you affectionately called your emotionally constipated husband.

A marriage that was arranged since the two of you were young and yet your husband would not lie with you. No… he’d rather play with his toys. Jonathan told you he had made you this doll to play with so you’d leave him alone…

“What’s wrong dear?” A smooth voice whispered in your ear as lanky arms wrapped around your body to pull you closer to his. His skin felt like ice and you didn’t even feel a heartbeat… was this man undead? He wasn’t human, but you weren’t even sure if he was even living. “Is my appearance not to your liking? Your husband did his best to make me exactly in his image.”

“…” you frowned at his words, your words died off in your throat before they could even be uttered. How could you forget that your toy maker husband built you a living doll to be a crude imitation of him all because you expressed a desire for more attention. Yet it felt as if you were not worthy of having the real husband. Only this doll. A doll that would do anything you asked of it to an almost unhealthy degree.

Everywhere you want, Johnny followed. If you were in the garden, so was Johnny. If you were in the tub, Johnny would wash your hair and back for you. It didn’t matter that you were disinterested in this lifeless mockery of your husband, the doll would follow you.

“Dear? Do you not like me?” The doll asked once more as his porcelain arms wrapped around you tighter. His perfect face remained unmoved, but you swore his tenor voice sounded anxious. “I’m just as good as he is! I dote on you! I take care of you and your needs! I’m made as a perfect replica-“

“But you’re not my husband.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your eyes filled with sadness. “Your body is as cold as ice and you have no heartbeat… your presence does nothing but make me sink into a larger pit of loneliness.”

“So you desire warm skin and a heart?” The doll asked in a hushed tone. His glassy green eyes admired your form. “If I were to be more human… would you like me more?”

“…yes.” You just wanted the conversation to be over. To bury your head on your pillow and sob until you passed out from the loneliness and pity that consumed you. Were you that unloveable that your own husband gifted you a living doll?

If only you noticed the way Johnny rested his head on your shoulder as the cogs in his mind turned. You’d love him if he had skin and a heart? He’d do just that…

How were you to know that this doll would present you Jonathan’s heart the next day in a heart shaped box with a smile that could only be described as uncanny? Not to mention the porcelain white skin that was no doubt from your husband’s own face that rested on Johnny’s like a mask.

“I have the traits you desire… so won’t you like me now? I’m better than him in every way!” He shouted as he set the box down on the dining room table in front of you. He took his pointer fingers and curved the loose skin around his lips into a smile. “We can be happy here in our dollhouse! Please! Please say you like me now!”

You felt numb as the heart in front you leaked crimson all over the box. Perhaps… this was all your own doing due to your selfishness? Of begging to be loved all your life that only a living doll would pay you any mind?

You let out a shaky sigh before you gulped. The alive burned your throat like it was acid. Your gave a fake smile to Johnny who eagerly awaited the four words he longed to hear for his entire existence.

“I like you, Johnny.”

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ No Longer Strangers — Awakened Pure Vanilla x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a part two to this fic as an apology for the angst, hehehe

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ��˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It had been troubling, being apart without Pure Vanilla. It felt like a very piece of your souljam had been torn out, leaving you a devestated mess in the meantime. While this "Recluse" took off, you tried to pick up the pieces he had left. Yet, to your surprise, you were now face to face with the same Cookie who had said those terrible things to you. His clothes had a white tinge rather than black, the blues completely gone. The eye of his staff now sported a brilliantly shining star, matching the mark on his forehead. His expression was deeply troubled as he spoke with you. "My dear, I-... I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am" he began softly, voice thick with guilt.

You shook off your surprise at his new form, fixing him with a glare. "You should be. Do you have any idea what it was like, having you talk to me like I was nothing? Hearing you treat me like a problem?". Pure Vanilla winced, his hands nervously rubbing the handle of his staff. "I.. wasn't myself. I was under Shadow Milk's control, and... I thought you'd be safer without me. In some way, I... thought I was helping". "Well you weren't" you replied firmly. Pure Vanilla frowned more, slowly stepping closer to you. He extended a nervous hand, and you noticed how it shook. Your expression softened, and with only a moment's hesitation, you allowed him to take your hand into his.

You watched with a suspicious gaze as Pure Vanilla guided your hand to his lips, gently pecking the back of it "Oh, my dove... you didn't deserve such cruelty. Never in all my years have I ever dreamt of hurting you, even in my nightmares". As he spoke, you heard his tone waver. Something in your chest lurched painfully, but you tried to stuff it down. "But you did," you told him, voice now soft as the old aches returned "I know it wasn't in your control, but I can't forget it". "I understand" Pure Vanilla said.

He then kneeled down, bowing a little. He pressed your hand to his forehead. "Please, let me make it up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life letting you know that I adore you every day, each more than the last" he said, tone having warbled into near-begging. "Pure Vanilla..." You said, and he cut you off by opening up his eyes. You could see the darkness that once suffocated them was now gone, the soft blue and yellow you'd come to love being visible once again. He gently moved your hand to his cheek, and kissed your palm. "I'm sorry, my dove. And I can't say it enough. I can't spend another moment thinking of how you looked that last time we met"

The memory fluttered across your mind, the way it stung seeing your beloved look at you with such disdain. All traces of coldness was gone, now the healer was leaning into your hand like it was the last time he'd ever feel your touch. You felt some dampness from his eye reach your hand, and that alone broke you. You inched closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. "I- I thought you'd-" you began, voice breaking up with emotion. Pure Vanilla wrapped you in his arms, a sensation you previously feared never feeling again. "Shh, shh, it's alright. I'm back now, you see? It's just me" he murmured.

You couldn't help but melt into his hold, pouring all the agony you'd felt into tears while dissolving in his arms. He sniffled, a small whimper leaving him as he cried along with you. It took several moments, but when you pulled back, Pure Vanilla began kissing the tears off of your dough, wiping your eyes clean with his hands. "I love you, my dove" he said quietly "More than anything. You don't have to forgive me just yet, but I'll try every day to prove it to you". You chuckled a little. It was so uniquely him, and for the first time in a long while, you felt he was himself again. His voice, the one you remembered, the one that comforted you countless times, was back.

You gave a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. Almost as soon as it happened, Pure Vanilla gently cupped your face, bringing you back in for a proper kiss. It was chaste, but you felt relief fill your form at feeling his kiss again. You held it with him until it slowly broke, Pure Vanilla simply breathing in the moment. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Anything you want, my love, and I'll grant it to you" he said. You smiled, hugging him once more "I'll tell you when I think of it. Can we just stay here for now?". "Of course," Pure Vanilla said, shifting to be fully sitting and putting you right in his lap. He gently pet your hair while keeping a tight hold around your waist. You leaned into him, feeling whole once again.

[starvoiddream]

Dick, skipping rocks with Tim and Bat!sib: It’s such a beautiful evening.

Tim: Yeah, it is.

Bat!sib, whispering: Take that you fucking lake.

[soaln]

could you do ace with a m!reader who is into breeding (the reader being the bottom)

NO TITLE IDEA ﹒ ౨ৎ

𓏵 ﹒ ┈ warnings : minor dni, breeding kink, maybe ooc, smut w no plot, ace x m!reader, probably bad grammar, over 1,4Kwrds ｡— ◟ 𖦹

The ship rocked gently on the open sea, its wooden frame creaking softly as it cut through the waves. The midday sun blazed overhead, casting a golden glow across the deck, but inside the cabin, the heat was of a different kind. The air was thick, charged with an electric tension that seemed to hum with every breath. The scent of saltwater mingled with the earthy aroma of sweat and desire, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that enveloped the two men in their private world.

Ace loomed above his lover, his chest rising and falling with the weight of his breaths. His lips were slightly parted, his expression a mix of hunger and restraint. The space between them crackled with unspoken need, the kind that had been building for days, weeks, perhaps even longer. His hands, rough and calloused from years of life at sea, moved with surprising tenderness over the smooth expanse of his partner’s chest. Every touch was deliberate, every caress a silent promise of what was to come.

“I told you,” Ace murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver through his lover’s body. “You don’t know when to quit.” His thumb circled one of the taut nipples beneath him, a teasing motion that elicited a sharp gasp. The man beneath him arched into the touch, his body betraying the depth of his need.

But despite the teasing edge to his words, Ace’s gaze was dark and intense, his pupils dilated with desire. His lover’s breath hitched at the sight, his own eyes heavy with lust, his entire body trembling beneath Ace’s weight.

“No,” came the soft but insistent reply. The man beneath him shifted, his hands sliding across Ace’s back, nails scraping lightly over the muscles there. His fingers dug into the flesh at Ace’s hips, pulling him closer. “I can never get enough of you.”

Ace’s lips curled into a wry grin, his amusement evident. “Yeah, I know. You’re insatiable.” His breath was warm against his lover’s neck, and he couldn’t help but let out a low laugh, the sound rich and deep. “Always begging for more. But that’s what I love about you.”

A subtle smirk played at the corner of his lover’s lips. He tilted his head up, capturing Ace’s mouth in a heated kiss, his hands already working to undo the buttons of Ace’s vest. His fingers trembled with impatience, his need palpable. “You can’t deny it either,” he teased between kisses, his voice rough with desire. “You love how much I want you. How much I need you.”

Ace groaned against his lips, pressing his body down into his lover’s. Every touch, every movement, ignited a fire deep within him, a fire he had no intention of extinguishing. He kissed back hungrily, his hands sliding down the lean body beneath him, feeling the warmth and strength of it beneath his fingertips. He could feel the heat of his lover’s pulse against his own, a perfect match to the burning ache between them.

“You’re damn right,” Ace muttered between kisses, his hands traveling lower, gripping his lover’s hips firmly, possessively. “You belong to me. Always have. Always will.”

A tremor ran through his lover’s body at the words, a quiet shudder that only fueled the fire raging between them. His hands moved to pull Ace closer, desperately. His body shifted beneath Ace’s as he arched up, pushing their pelvises together, a sharp intake of breath slipping past his lips as their bodies finally aligned.

“You’re mine, too,” his lover rasped, his voice raw, needy. “Only yours, Ace.”

Ace’s eyes darkened, burning with something primal. “Good.” He pulled back slightly, positioning himself with deliberate slowness. The anticipation built in the silence, heavy and thick, before he lowered his lips to his lover’s throat, pressing kisses down the warm column of skin. “I’m gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine. Nobody’s gonna be able to touch you like I do.”

His cock thrust forward then, deeply, deliberately, forcing the air from his lover’s lungs with a shocked gasp. “Ace,” came the broken whimper, the sound of his name enough to send a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name,” Ace murmured, his breath ragged in [y/n]’s ear. He thrust again, this time faster, harder, feeling the way his lover’s body trembled beneath him. “Beg for it.”

His lover’s body responded eagerly, his legs shakingly wrapping around Ace’s waist, pulling him in deeper. “Please,” he begged, his voice a melodic mix of pleasure and desperation. “I need you, Ace. Want you so bad.”

Ace growled, his teeth grazing his lover’s neck. “You’re gonna take everything I give you. Every. Damn. Inch.” With that, he surged forward again, setting a frantic rhythm, his hands gripping the sheets beside his lover’s head, his body moving with the powerful, relentless drive of a man consumed by fire.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the only sound the rhythmic clash of their bodies, the gasps and moans that spilled from their lips. The air thickened with heat, the flames of their desire licking higher, stronger, until the only thing left was the raw, unfiltered need to claim, to possess, to mark their territory in the most primal way imaginable.

“You’re mine,” Ace growled again, pressing in deep, making sure his lover felt every inch of him. “Forever. No one else will ever have you like this.”

His lover’s hands gripped him tighter, nails digging into his back as he came closer, shuddering violently beneath him. “I’m yours, Ace. Always… yours.” He moans.

And with that final admission, Ace gave in, his body shuddering in the release, filling his lover completely with a hot sticky climax. They collapsed together in a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs, breathless, the aftershocks of their shared climax still rippling through them.

Ace pressed a lingering kiss to his lover’s temple, his hands gentle now, fingers carding through his hair as they both caught their breath.

“Never gonna let you go,” Ace whispered, his voice low but steady, the promise hanging in the air between them like a vow.

And for once, it wasn’t just the flames that burned between them. It was something much deeper, something that neither of them could ever extinguish.

---

The cabin was quiet now, the only sound the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship’s hull. The heat of the moment had faded, replaced by a warm, contented glow. Ace lay beside his lover, his arm draped over the man’s chest, their bodies still pressed close. The room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the setting sun, filtering through the small porthole and casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The air smelled of salt and sweat, a lingering reminder of their passion. Ace’s fingers traced idle patterns on his lover’s skin, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath his touch.

“Do you think it’ll always be like this?” The male asked, his voice low and husky, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ace turned his head, meeting the man’s gaze. There was a vulnerability there, a question that went deeper than the words. He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over the man’s cheek. “I don’t know about always,” he admitted, his voice gentle. “But for now, it’s enough. You’re enough.”

The man’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile, and he leaned into Ace’s touch. “You always know what to say,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. “I just… I don’t want this to end.”

Ace’s heart ached at the words, a bittersweet pang that echoed his own fears. But he pushed them aside, focusing on the warmth of the moment, the way their bodies fit together so perfectly, as if they were made for each other. “It doesn’t have to,” he said firmly, though he knew the reality of their lives. “We’ll take it one day at a time. That’s all we can do.”

The male nodded, though the worry didn’t fully leave his eyes. Ace leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then his lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against his skin. “Not yet.”

The words hung in the air, a fragile promise in a world that was anything but certain. But for now, in the quiet of the cabin, with the waves as their witness, it was enough. They held each other tightly, savoring the peace, knowing that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[witherby]

If Mouse got traits from everyone, did anybody got traits from Mouse?

Oh, what a cute question! Let's say yes!

Dick learned to relax his standards for himself. Mouse isn't a vigilante, they don't have perfect grades, and they always take breaks or communicate when they simply can't or don't want to do something. Dick has started giving himself the same leniencies — he'll actually rest when he's sick instead of powering through it, he'll forgive himself for mistakes he's made, and if he simply doesn't want to do something, he won't. He's learning through Mouse to stop chasing perfectionism.

Jason picked up on Mouse's penchant for sleeping in. They like being in bed and being lazy. The world will still be there when they decide to grace the rest of the manor with their presence, so Jason adopts the same attitude. The perpetual bags under his eyes disappear in six months and his rage induced by the Pit becomes ten times more manageable. He and Mouse kickstart a mandatory Family Nap Time when it seems like everybody is running on empty.

Tim starts learning how to take things at face value. This family often has problems saying things outright, except for Mouse, who says what they mean and means what they say. If they're hungry, they're going to verbalize it. If they're disinterested in something, they're going to verbalize it. If they feel sick, they're going to verbalize it. No, Tim, they aren't actively starving to death or disinterested in a topic because they secretly hate you or seconds from dying of a plague. Please quit overanalyzing every little situation.

Damian grows a funny bone. He spent so long trying to shrug off the title of "youngest Wayne" and "baby bat" that he became almost grizzled about it. He's overly "no-nonsense" and acts more mature than he sometimes feels for the sake of being treated seriously, which costs him the leniency that comes with a normal childhood. Mouse's carefree mannerisms and easy optimism, as well as taking over the title of the baby of the family, allows Damian to let loose a little bit. Now he's more accepting of his desires to goof off and play games for the sake of having fun instead of being productive.

Alfred got the full Grandfather experience from Flittermouse. He's so used to being in a family of hyper-independent people that he didn't realize he wanted to feel needed. Because he knows that Bruce and Dick and Jason and Tim and Damian are perfectly fine without him. They don't need him to cook, or clean, or tend to their wounds, or help them with anything, really. They want him around, though, because they love him and he all of them, which is enough for him.

But a baby? Babies need to be tended to. They need attention. They need care. They need to be fed and clothed and cuddled and doted on. And Alfred didn't realize how much he missed doting on little Bruce when he was a child until he was gifted the chance to do it again with Mouse.

Hal learns how to be a parent with Mouse. He develops patience so, so quickly, because you have no choice when you're taking care of a brand new human who's never human'd before. He also secretly uses parenting tricks he's learned raising you on some of the planets he's called to oversee and communicate with diplomatically. Gentle parenting a whole race of K'inleons into avoiding war with another planet was not on his bucket list but damn was it effective. And, like Jason, he learns to stop and rest with Mouse, too. Maybe he doesn't need to pick up extra missions as a Lantern and stay up late patrolling his sector of the universe after doing a check just hours before. Maybe he can just stay on Earth and rest and be Hal.

Bruce would've picked up Mouse's easy capacity to love if they didn't already learn that from him. Bruce's one, fundamental trait is his optimism and capacity to believe in second chances. But Mouse does teach him to communicate more effectively with his loved ones. He slowly but surely gets over his fear that muttering the words "I love you" will not end in that person's death. He allows himself to display his vulnerabilities and admit when he's tired or wounded, instead of soldiering on after the battle is won.

[evenyvn]

Full of Love

himeko, welt, pom-pom x gn!reader [platonic]

summary : people always say you're so full of love, especially for the astral express family.

cw : gn!reader, sfw, fluff, found family troupe, reader is a nameless, mention of ptsd, reader have bad past before joining astral express, word vomit tbh.

i really adore astral express family, they're my roman empire. i might write for the trailblazer trio + sunday after this. also fyi i rarely write for platonic relationship so please don't expect me to write more platonic stuff 🙏

masterlist

Many people say that you're a person full of love, especially for the Astral Express family. And you never deny it—because they're not wrong. The Express has been your haven, your safe place, a place you call home.

Before you boarded the Express, life had always been hard on your 'home' planet. In fact, you're not even sure if you could call that hellhole of a place a home. Not once did you feel safe since the day you were born.

But now, that's all in the past. You've healed, you've made peace with yourself and your past, and all you can do is share your love with the other crew members.

Starting with Himeko. The red haired navigator has been your savior—since the day she welcomed you with open arms, guided you out of your darkest times, and became the first person you could truly trust.

Her gentle smile makes your heart flutter with happiness that you couldn't explain. Her presence makes you feel safe. She always stands by your side, supporting your decisions with an open mind.

You're always grateful for her, and you can tell she's grateful for you too.

"You're a blessing that not even an Aeon can give,"

She once said on a night when your body trembled from the weight of nightmares from the past. She held you in her arms, her hands running soothingly along your back as she whispered soft words of comfort. She handled you with pure kindness—never she treats you like you were some kind of a scared animal, but as an equal. She treated you like a human being.

People always say you're full of love for Himeko, and it's true. Every morning, you never failed to brew her a cup of coffee just the way she likes it, even if her preferences were odd, even if you dislike the strong smell of the coffee beans. You do it for her. And every time, she never failed to send you a grateful smile and a few words of praise as she takes a sip. You wouldn't trade the world for the smile she gives you.

You're always full of love for Welt, the man who mysteriously boarded the Express one day. At first, you were skeptical of him. Before he arrived, it had always been just you, Himeko, and Pom-Pom. Your skepticism were justified, and Welt never took offense.

He was patient. He earned your trust slowly but surely.

At night when the nightmares became too much to bear, when sleep felt impossible, you'd wander the halls of the Express. Some nights, you didn't have the heart to wake Himeko, even though you knew she wouldn't mind comforting you like always.

You'd drift through the dimly lit corridors before finding yourself in the Parlor Car. There, you’d often spot Welt, sitting on the red couch in front of one of the tables. He would acknowledge your presence with a small glance before a slight smile pulled at his lips.

"Having trouble sleeping too?"

He never pried, never forced you to talk. He simply welcomed you to sit beside him, allowing you both to exist in silence as you gazed at the endless stars through the glass panels. And so, your little habit began.

Some nights, when neither of you could sleep, you'd sit together in comfortable silence. Other nights, one of you would open up, little by little. Welt would tell you stories of his late home, and in return, you'd share yours. It became a quiet, unspoken secret between the two of you.

People say you're full of love for Welt, and it’s evident in the way you'll sketch countless pictures of his characters from the animations he’s shown you before.

In fact, he's the one who taught you how to draw, sharing his little joys with you as you eagerly followed his lessons. You'll proudly show him your sketches, even when the lines were wobbly and imperfect. But no matter what, he always praises you.

His little smile says it all. He’s proud of you and it's evident in the way he secretly pins your sketches above his monitor. so he can look at them fondly while he animates.

You're full of love for Pom-Pom too.

The fluffy conductor’s constant scolding has become one of your favorite things. It might sound odd, but you find comfort in their slightly agitated voice whenever they reprimand you for forgetting your cleaning duties. Your punishment is always the same—scrubbing down the entire Express for the day.

"Pom-Pom is only doing this because Pom-Pom is worried about you!"

Yet, at the end of the day, when you're exhausted and wiping the sweat off your forehead, you always find a plate of your favorite food waiting for you in your room. When you ask Pom-Pom about it, they avoid eye contact, flustered, before lying and running away.

Everyone on the Express knows the truth—Pom-Pom has a soft spot for you. And you have a soft spot for them too. It's an open secret that you're their favorite passenger, even if they deny it every time.

You will always be full of love for the Astral Express, your family.

And you will never stop giving them your love.

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated ♡

[hyuniemyunie]

A Soft Touch in the Storm

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

sfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): established relationship, hurt/comfort, calming him down, reverse comfort. your role/position is not specified, everything is up to you!

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

The base was quiet now. The kind of quiet that came after a storm—uneasy, heavy, still vibrating with the lingering echoes of Ghost’s rage.

He had just torn into a group of rookies, his voice a guttural snarl, words sharp enough to cut through steel. His temper wasn’t something people saw often, but when it surfaced, it was a force of nature—wild, untamed, terrifying.

And now, standing in the dim light of your shared quarters, Simon was still wound tight. His shoulders, broad and tense, heaved with each breath. His fists clenched at his sides, veins prominent, a barely controlled wildfire burning beneath his skin.

He hadn’t said a word since storming in. His balaclava was still on, but his eyes—those sharp, predatory eyes—stayed locked on the ground. He was stuck in his head, looping whatever thoughts had sent him into a rage in the first place. You stepped forward, quiet but sure. You didn’t ask him what happened. You already knew that if he wanted to tell you, he would.

Instead, you reached up and scratched under his chin, fingers gentle against the stubble-covered skin beneath the mask.

His breath hitched.

Not out of fear. Not out of surprise. But because it was you.

Simon Riley, feared and revered, a walking nightmare to his enemies, melted at your touch. His body swayed forward, just slightly, the tension in his shoulders barely loosening. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t react beyond that slight lean. So you pushed further, lifting his balaclava just enough to see his mouth, his jaw—set tight, clenched like he was trying to hold himself together.

Without hesitation, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw.

“Simon,” you murmured, his name like silk against his skin.

A shudder ran through him. A small one, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t you. But you felt it. You felt how his breathing stuttered, how his fists uncurled just a little.

You scratched under his chin again, tilting his face slightly, and this time, he let you. He let you ease the mask up higher until it was bunched at the bridge of his nose, revealing more of him—the part no one else got to see.

You kissed him again. And again. Soft, warm, grounding.

His hands—those large, powerful hands—finally moved, hesitantly resting on your waist. He didn’t pull you closer, not yet, but you could feel the way his fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, like he needed to hold onto something.

“You’re okay,” you whispered against his lips. “You’re here.”

Simon exhaled sharply. It was almost a sigh, almost a release, but not quite. Not yet.

You kissed him again, slower this time. A deliberate, lingering press of your lips against his, pouring everything into the touch—love, reassurance, warmth.

His grip on you tightened, pulling you in flush against him. His body was still rigid, but his mouth, his kiss—God, it was desperate. Starved. Like he needed to feel you, to remind himself that he wasn’t just a soldier, wasn’t just a weapon.

He was yours.

You broke the kiss just enough to whisper, “Simon.”

His forehead pressed against yours. His breathing was still heavy, still rough, but it was different now. Slower. More controlled.

“…I lost it,” he finally muttered, voice hoarse. “Didn’t mean to, but—”

“I know,” you interrupted softly. “It’s okay.”

His fingers dug into your waist, as if grounding himself in your touch. You smiled faintly and ran your fingers along his jaw, scratching under his chin again like you would with a restless animal.

His eyes fluttered shut. A shaky exhale left him.

You did it again. And again. Until his breathing evened out. Until his shoulders relaxed just a little more. Until his grip on you wasn’t desperate, but steady.

Until Simon Riley wasn’t just Ghost anymore.

Just yours.

----

Simon hadn’t moved in a while.

His forehead was still resting against yours, his breath fanning over your lips, warm and steady now. You could feel the weight of him—his exhaustion, his lingering frustration, the sheer force of will it took for him to loosen his grip on whatever rage had been bubbling under his skin.

And still, he hadn’t let go of you.

His fingers remained curled into the fabric of your shirt, like a man afraid to wake from a dream. You didn’t mind. If he needed to hold on, then you’d let him. You wanted him to.

Your hand was still under his chin, gently scratching, coaxing him into that quiet, vulnerable space where he wasn’t Ghost, wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t a weapon. Just Simon. Just yours.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” you murmured, breaking the silence.

His eyes flickered open—dark, tired, but clearer than before.

Simon didn’t like talking about things that pissed him off. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because his anger was like a caged animal, something he kept locked away so it wouldn’t sink its teeth into something he cared about.

But you were different. You had a way of slipping past his defenses without him even realizing it.

“…Rookies,” he muttered, his voice rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours. “Bunch of green idiots with no sense of self-preservation.”

You hummed in understanding. “So, what? They weren’t listening?”

A scoff. He pulled back slightly, just enough for you to see the sharp press of his lips, the way his jaw tensed again.

“One of them got cocky. Nearly got himself and his whole team in the crossfire during an op. Didn’t even realize how close he was to dying.” His voice dropped, low and harsh. “They don’t get second chances in this line of work. I made sure they understood that.”

You could imagine exactly how it had played out. Simon rarely lost his temper, but when he did, it was explosive. Controlled, but brutal. A verbal lashing that could strip paint from the walls, meant to drill a lesson into thick skulls before someone got themselves killed.

And it worked.

But it also left him like this—burned out, angry at the stupidity of it all, and wound too tight to breathe.

You sighed softly, lifting your other hand to run your fingers through his hair. You scratched at his scalp, gentle, patient, and his eyelids fluttered just a bit.

“They’re alive, yeah?”

He grunted in response.

“And they know they messed up?”

Another grunt. A reluctant nod.

“Then it’s done, Simon,” you murmured, thumb brushing over the hinge of his jaw. “They learned their lesson. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

His breath hitched—just slightly.

He wanted to argue, you could tell. Wanted to insist that it was his job to make sure they didn’t die, that he couldn’t just let things go, not when people’s lives were on the line.

But instead of arguing, he just looked at you.

Something in his expression softened, like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself focus on before. His thumb brushed absently over your hip, slow, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“…You always do that,” he murmured after a moment.

“Do what?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Pull me back.”

A slow, lopsided smile tugged at your lips. “You say that like it’s hard.”

He huffed a short laugh, but there was something in his eyes—something raw, something that made your chest ache.

You leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to the edge of his jaw, trailing down to his throat. His grip on you tightened again, his breathing going uneven for just a second.

“I’ll always pull you back,” you whispered against his skin.

Simon didn’t respond—not with words, at least.

Instead, he tilted his head down, closing the space between you. His lips met yours in something slow, lingering, a silent promise tucked between the kisses.

You felt it—the way his body finally, finally relaxed. The way his fingers curled around the back of your neck, holding you close, anchoring himself in you.

The storm had passed.

And he was home.

Simon was solid beneath your touch. Warm, steady, his body still humming with tension, but it wasn’t the sharp-edged kind anymore. It was different now—quieter, softer, the kind that came from letting go but not quite knowing how to settle.

You could feel it in the way he held you, like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you in tighter. His grip on your waist was firm, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt as if grounding himself, but his breathing had slowed. The storm had passed, but the echoes of it still clung to him, like distant thunder rolling on the horizon.

And you couldn’t have that.

Not when he was finally here, finally present with you. Not when the worst of his anger had ebbed away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

So you did the only thing that made sense.

You kissed him.

Not just once. Not just on the lips. But everywhere.

It started with a slow, deliberate press of your lips to the corner of his mouth—barely a whisper of a touch, warm and fleeting. Then, another kiss to his cheek, right over the rough stubble that always scratched at your skin when he let his mask slip, both figuratively and literally.

Then another.

And another.

Each one gentle, lingering, meant to erase whatever weight still sat heavy on his shoulders.

Simon let out a breath—one of those deep, quiet exhales that made you think he wasn’t even aware he was holding it in. His grip on your waist loosened slightly, and his head tilted just a fraction, like he was subconsciously leaning into you.

Good. He needed this.

You kept going. You kissed along the sharp line of his jaw, the rough skin of his cheek, the edge of his nose. You traced the bridge of it with the tip of your nose before pressing a soft kiss right between his brows, where a deep crease had been sitting just moments ago.

“Mm.” His voice was a quiet rumble, his head dipping forward like he was trying to hide his face—but you wouldn’t let him.

Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp angles of his face. You kissed his temple, slow and warm, and then down to his cheek again, your lips trailing over every scar, every rough patch of skin, every inch of him that had seen too much, suffered too much.

Simon sucked in a breath when you pressed a kiss right beneath his eye, where dark circles lingered from too many sleepless nights. His grip on you tightened again, his fingers digging into your sides as if trying to keep himself from sinking too far into you.

But that was the thing about you—you wanted him to sink into you. Wanted him to let go, to take the warmth you offered without hesitation.

So you didn’t stop.

You kissed his other cheek, then down to the edge of his jaw again. You let your lips brush over the curve of his throat, right where his pulse beat steady and strong. His breath hitched when you lingered there, when your mouth pressed against the sensitive skin with something a little firmer, a little more deliberate.

And then you whispered, "Simon."

His whole body shuddered.

It was small, barely noticeable, but you felt it. Felt the way his muscles tensed for a moment before melting, the last of his walls crumbling under your touch.

He made a low, quiet noise—something close to a sigh, something almost vulnerable—before his forehead dropped against your shoulder.

Your hands slid into his hair, fingers threading through the short strands, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You felt him exhale against your skin, his grip on you no longer desperate but firm, like he was holding onto you just because he could.

You smiled, pressing another kiss to the side of his head.

"You with me?" you murmured.

A slow, heavy nod.

You kissed his temple again, lingering this time. “Good.”

For a while, you just stood there, holding him, letting him be.

Simon Riley, the man who carried too much, who rarely let himself be vulnerable, was letting go in your arms.

And you would hold him as long as he needed.

[no-144444]

confronting- o.piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: a confrontation in a hotel room doesn't go so well thanks to Franco's loud mouth...

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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Entertaining the idea of dating Oscar when you knew you’d be gone at the end of the season wasn’t fair. He deserved someone who’d be there for every race, be there for him. You weren’t that person. You weren’t the person anyone should want, you just weren’t like that. 

Qatar rolled around and Oscar won the Sprint, and he was P3 in the race. You were meant to do the interviews. He knew that. That’s why he frowned when he was met with Jenson’s face at the end of the race. 

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, not holding the microphone up to his mouth. 

Jenson smirked. “Missing her?”

Oscar nodded. 

“She’s with Franco, he was pretty upset after the crash.”

“Oh,” he nodded, and the interview began. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

It’s not like you were trying to avoid him, it was just… easier that way. And Franco really was quite shaken after the crash, so that part wasn’t a lie either. You just didn’t want to deal with all of the shit the media and people online would give the two of you. You just wanted a nice, clean break from the world of F1, and the people online who shipped you and Oscar would never let that happen. It was upsetting, because he really was a good friend to you, and you thought you were a good friend to him. Maybe it could’ve been something else, if things were different. You sat with Franco, calming him down since he was pretty upset that his second last race of the season was fucked by a silly turn-one incident. 

“What’s going on with you and that model?” you asked. He chuckled. 

“Oh my, you saw it too? It’s so embarrassing,” he sighed. “Even my mother has been asking me about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” you laughed at his reaction. “We can talk about anything you want.”

“What’s going on with you and Oscar?” he smirked and your face fell slightly. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “We’re friends.”

“Friends?” he pried. “You two seem like more than ‘friends’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not. We’re just friends,” you assured him. 

Franco sat up, leaning closer to you. He was so close his breath was on your cheek, his eyes staring longingly into yours. You knew what he was doing.  “So he wouldn’t mind it if someone kissed you, no?”

You laughed, pushing him back down to his previous position of lying down. “Stop being weird. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He shouldn’t care anyway.”

“Let’s test that,” Franco challenged. “Kiss me in front of him, and then we’ll know. I’ll ask Lando to tell me about it, they’re close, right?”

You sighed, something about it felt a little bit… manipulative. And it’s not like you were looking for Oscar to like you back, he didn’t. That’s what he’d said the last time, it was only a joke, a prank, a mistake. Which was fine with you, of course. It made sense. You couldn’t be there for him while you were supposed to be there for someone else. Someone else on his team. 

Ok, so maybe the move to Indycar isn’t just about Sky starting to cover it. Maybe, they need more European fans, and you have to go over there and sell it to them with a relationship with Pato O’Ward. Maybe McLaren is paying you a lot of money to do that. 

Just maybe though. 

“I can’t do that Franco,” you explained. “It’s not fair. And anyways, I’m kind of… seeing someone.”

“Is it Oscar?!” he questioned. You shook your head. “Lando? Lance? Zhou? Yuki? Who?” “He’s not in F1!” you giggled, watching as Franco freaked out. 

“Who is he?! You have to tell me right now!” he begged, taking your hands. 

“He’s in Indycar, that’s all I’ll tell you,” you smirked and his jaw dropped. 

“Is that why you’re leaving?!” he almost shouted. 

“No! Sky really is just branching out, but yes, it is nice that I’ll actually be able to watch his races,” you chuckled. 

“I’ll miss you,” he frowned. 

“I’ll miss you too,” you chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. “Now, I have to go do my post-race duties, so I’ll see you in Abu Dhabi, alright?”

He frowned even deeper. “Alright,” he mumbled. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me!”

You left the Williams garage with a smile on your face, very much amused by your conversation with Franco. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You pulled up to the media pen, really to meet with Jenson and Nico, your co-hosts this weekend, but they were nowhere to be seen. Regardless, you prepared yourself with the running order. 

Lance, Lando, Max, Checo, Zhou, and Fernando. That’s all you had to get through before you got on a flight to Abu Dhabi the next morning. After another few minutes of waiting, Nico and Jenson showed up, acting slightly strange. They weren't really speaking to you, only with each other. It’s not like they were excluding you, just… not asking for your input. They seemed guilty too. 

Lance, Lando, Max, and Checo were all fine, polite and out of there quickly. Oscar didn’t show up. Unsurprising, as you had been avoiding him. Zhou and Fernando went by in a flash, and you were back to your hotel by 2am. 

When you walked into your hotel, you were not expecting to see Oscar Piastri standing outside your door. 

Holy shit. You were so astronomically fucked. 

“What are you doing here?” you questioned. He turned to you. 

He cleared his throat. He’d been thinking of a response to that question since the second he’d started waiting outside for you. What was he doing? This was insane. His plan was to make you stay, but he was much too upset to talk rationally when he got the text from Franco about you seeing an Indycar driver. Honestly, it crushed him. He genuinely thought you’d liked him. “I wanted to… talk? Or something, just to gauge what the fuck is going on here,” he was getting heated, and you understood he was probably angry with you, and it’s not like he didn’t have a reason. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, opening your hotel room door and letting him inside. 

“You’re going to Indycar?” he questioned. “What the fuck?”  

You gulped, hard. “Yeah?” 

“Why?” he demanded. “What does Indycar have that F1 doesn’t? F1 is faster cars, faster drivers, more money, more races, more countries, more-”

“Oscar! Did it ever occur to you that this wasn’t my fucking choice?!” you shouted over him. Silence. “Indycar doesn’t have Sky coverage, but Europeans are interested in the sport and they need a known interviewer to go there and make it easier to sell it to people, and I got picked. That’s it.” 

“So it has nothing to do with whatever Indycar driver you’re fucking?” he scoffed. Your face fell. Your eyes fell to the hardwood floor beneath your feet. “Yeah, I know.”

Your face soured and you looked up again, offended. Who did he think he was? He had no say in your life at all. You’d hated him for 2 years, and you had no real reason to, now you had one. “I owe you nothing Oscar. I’m an adult in a consenting relationship, and yes he’s in Indycar, is that a crime?” 

“Is that why you’re going over there?” he asked, stepping closer to you. You could cut the atmosphere in the room with a knife. “Or are you running away from something here?” 

“Fuck you,” you pushed him back. This wasn't the Oscar you knew. He was different, angry, mean, and rude. You owed him nothing. “Get out.” 

He nodded, and left without another word. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

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taglist:

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[zorosunwashedleftcheek]

Guys… after watching Zou, I now realize that there is no damn inn. pretend there is, I wrote this during punk hazard.

hello!

i hope you have a great day and are feeling good

Sooooo that Law writing of yours was immaculate. I really enjoyed it, therefore I wanted to ask if you could write something more about him.

Maybe some pre-relationships or something into hurt/comfort direction.

Bet. Uhhh… I was watching Howls Moving Castle while I wrote this and it lowkey influenced the hell out of the ending. I didn’t proofread or anything so if it’s cheeks, please don’t jump me but yeah 👍

A Heart’s A Heavy Burden

Pairing: Law x Gn!Reader

Summary: Law is leaving for Punk Hazard and neither of you deal with it very well.

cw: Gn! Reader, SFW, lots of talk abt the heart, lowkey ooc, kissing,

a/n: If Law’s ooc no he’s not, shut up.

~

Law is leaving.

His bags are packed and his room had been boarded up.  His responses as of late have been curt and detached as he details the plans for the crew while he’s gone.

The plan being tourism.  He wants the crew to stay on Zou for an indefinite period of time and… do whatever as long as you don’t get yourselves into trouble.

Bepo has been a sniveling mess, teary as he mopes around the ship.  He clings to Law, begging his captain to take him as well.  To which Law will order the bear to go clean the toilets as punishment for defying orders.

Shachi and Penguin are loud, complaining about being left behind.  But still, the pore over a map of Zou, circling places of interest to visit.  They attempt to sway Law into joining them on the Island.

‘But Captain, look at this bathhouse.  Look how nice it is… and the men and women bathe together!  Don’t you at least want to check it out?”

You however, are pissed. You’ve been giving Law the silent treatment for the past week, barely sparing the man a glance during mealtimes.  You are scarcely in the same room as him, unless it’s a required meeting.

Bepo’s noticed it.  Shachi and Penguin have noticed it. The way that steam practically shoots out of your ears whenever your eyes land on the doctor.

But the person who’s noticed it the most is Law, the one and only.

You don’t notice the way his gaze lingers on you for the few moments you’re in the same room as him.  The way he’ll extend his meetings just a few minutes longer to keep your attention on him.

Law isn’t any sort of poet or artist.  He’s a man who prefers solitude.  He’s introverted, awkward, and too intense.  He hates parties and recklessness and loud people.

Yet every time he thinks of you, the way you seem to float through life, a smile sent to anyone, whether they may want it or not.  It made his heart ache.

Law didn’t want to call the feeling love.  Love was too painful, too much of a burden. And Law hated burdens.

But he couldn’t deny the painful tugging inside of him whenever he caught a whiff of your scent: soap and coffee beans.

It felt as though he was being slowly crushed, the wall of the submarines closing around him.

Maybe that’s why he called you to the medbay the night before he left.

There’s only a soft light from his desk as you kick the door open with the tip of your boot.  Law is sitting in his chair, one leg crossed over the other as he motions for you to close the door.

He hadn’t quite thought this through, what he wanted to talk about… what he should say… Goodbye? I’ll miss you? Please don’t forget me? iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou.

So instead he sits there like a damn fool, staring up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Did you need something, Captain?”

Law can’t help but curl his lip at your honorific, you hadn’t used his name since he  announced that he’d be leaving.  He wanted to hear you say it one more time.

Law’s mouth open… and then closes before he finally grumbles out, “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I’m well aware,”

Ouch.

Law drums his fingers on the arm of his chair before groaning and dropping his head into his hand, massaging his temples.  Do you not care? Are you happy that he’s leaving?

“…I’ve set up a fund.  The crew will have enough money to last you about a year, maybe more.”

“I’ll relay that to the crew.”

Law hesitates as he scrambles to find something else to say.  He should tell you that this is hard for him too.  That he considers his crew as not only his friends, but his family.  He wants to know that you’ll miss him.

“…What do you think about it… about me being gone.” Law averts his gaze, the tips of his ears going red beneath his hat.  He doesn’t like the look on your face.  The usual grin on your face is gone, replaced by a thin line.  Your brow pinched and your arms crossed over your chest.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, you’re leaving no matter what, right?”

Law scowls at your tone.  He enjoys your sharp tongue… usually.  He thought enjoyed watching you argue with men at the bar or snap at Shachi for snatching your food.

But you didn’t usually direct it towards him.  You were… softer when you were around him.  You didn’t fight quite as much, even with the others.  You were only so confrontational when you thought he wasn’t watching.  And even the times that you did banter with your captain, it was all in good faith.

But not right now.

“I’m your captain, you don’t talk to me like that.” He snaps, “I’m asking your thoughts as your superior, not your friend.”

Damn it.  He didn’t mean to say that.

Your expression sours impossibly and you shift on your feet. Raking a hand through your hair, you scoff, “Well… I’m thinking that when and if you come back, I might not be a part of your crew anymore.”

What?

Law freezes, his eyes widening.  What the hell are you talking about? 

“I didn’t join this crew to sit around on some island waiting for you.  I became a pirate to explore the world.  I won’t put my dreams on hold while you go do whatever the hell it is you’re doing.”

The walls are crushing him.  His heart is about to break out of his chest and fall to the floor at your feet.  Maybe he should let it.  Give you part of him and let you destroy it, crush it beneath your heel.

What should he say? You may be a newer addition to the crew compared to the others, but you were still a part of the crew, and Law couldn’t let you leave.  He wouldn’t.

He should beg.  He should get down on his knees and kiss your shoes, pleading for you to stay with him.  He should carve out his heart and offer it to you.

“The crew will miss you.” Is what he says instead, his voice slightly strangled.

“I’ll miss them as well.”

Shit. What the hell should he say? 

“…I’d miss you.” He finally whispers, so low that you barely catch it.  His gaze is trained on the floor, as if trying to burn holes through the metal.  He’s fidgeting as though he’d just professed his undying love for you, and in Law’s mind, he practically had.

You pause, your lips parted.  Never once had you heard Law say something so unsure, so emotional… so vulnerable.

Law taps his fingers together. DE, DA, DT, DH, DT, DA, DE…

“Captain… Law.”

Law’s head shoots up at the sound of his name, his eyes searching yours for any hint of anger.  He prepares himself to be slapped for saying something so stupid.  God, he was nothing but a damn fool.  How could he possibly say something like that to you? He might as well slit his throat now.

“Is your mission that important?”

He swallows thickly.  Is it? Is revenge more important to him than his crew?  After a moment, Law gives a small nod.

You sigh, looking up to the ceiling.  “I’ll wait as long as I can.  But if I ever feel as though I’m wasting my time, I’ll leave, whether you’re back or not.”

Law could cry from happiness but instead he gives a firm nod.  He stands up and walks towards you.  He’s not sure what he’s doing as he reaches out and rests his palm on your shoulder

What the fuck is he doing.

He’s taller than you.  And you look up at him through your lashes. You’re so warm.  Your eyes shine in the low light of the room… or are those tears?

Law nearly stumbles back at the sight.  He’s not one to comfort people.  Should he hug you? Yeah, right.  You’d probably kick him in the balls.

So instead he claps your shoulder, a little harder than he probably should have and gives a firm nod.  “I trust you to take care of our crew.”

And with that he walks out the door.

Law thinks he looked cool and stoic as he walked out the door to the med bay, well… he hopes he did.

But in reality, it was a horribly awkward exchange.  His words choppy as if it pained him to say them.  His shoulder hunched as he practically fled out the door, his head ducked to hide the horrified expression on his face.

You find it horribly endearing.

-

Law’s in a panic as he sprints down the hall of the inn his crew had been staying at. There’s a key in his hand, but he knows he won’t bother using it.  

God, he prays you’re still here.

He had only arrived a mere hour ago and he hadn’t yet seen the rest of his crew to confirm that you were here.

In one hand he holds the keys to your room, in the other… his heart.

Literally.

He stops in front of your room and without hesitating, he kicks down your door.  It swings open, crashing against the wall and leaving a sizable hole.

Lo and behold, there you are. Sitting at your desk and reading a book, just as you always have.  

Your hair’s longer, and you’re wearing a shirt he’s never seen before.

You turn to look at him with a shocked expression, your eyes moving from him, to the broken door, and then to the beating heart in his hands.

“What the hell…” You murmur, shutting your book and standing up.  Law notices with a hint of amusement that you’re reading one of those romance books you’ve always liked, the ones that Law found ridiculous.

Law stands awkwardly in the doorway, panting as he takes in the sight of you.  You had really stayed.  You really waited for him.

“You’re still here…” He manages out, dropping the key onto a nearby table.

“Uhh… yeah,” You scratch your head as you struggle to keep your focus on him.  The heart in his hands catching your attention.  “I read that your arm got ripped off-“

“I have something to say to you.” Law barks out, his voice a tad bit too loud, pointedly annoying your comment.  His heart is beating wildly, and not just from running.

You snap your mouth and watch as he tugs his hat off.  His hand trembles as he awkwardly clambers onto one knee.  Law wills himself to meet your gaze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your eyes are wide, a flush on your face. You resist the urge to shove him flat on his ass, because why is he kneeling for you?  Is he seriously about to…

“Take my heart.” Law says, his voice nearly a shout as he shoves the beating organ towards you.

What the fuck.

It’s pumping so fast that you’re nearly certain he must be having a medical emergency.  Your hands stay awkwardly at your sides as you blink down at him.

“Ah… thank you?  But I don’t want it.”

Law’s heart drops, figuratively, thankfully.  And a frown covers his face as he shoves it toward you again.  “It’s yours.” He argues, “I don’t want it.  It only holds me back.”

“Get off your knee, Law.  Someone’s going to walk by and get the wrong idea.”

After a moment of considering throwing himself out the window, Law slowly stands up.  This is one of the most humiliating things he’s ever had to do.

But as his gaze meets yours, he finds that your face is soft, your brows pinched as you give a sweet, awkward smile.

This is worse.  This is so much worse. You must be pitying him.

Without a word, Law turns towards the door.  But he doesn’t make it a step before a hand circles his wrist. He tenses, and doesn’t turn around. 

Not until your hand cups his face.

His face goes so impossibly red, his breath catching in his throat and his heart nearly goes tumbling from his hands.

“Put your heart back?” You ask softly, and who is Law to deny you when your voice is so sweet?

Once his heart is back where you think it belongs, (although Law would argue that it belongs in your hands.) you finally speak.

“I can’t have your heart, Law.”

Law blinks, his heart feels so heavy in his chest, it aches, and your words are both healing and killing him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s yours.”

“No it’s not.” Law argues. “I don’t want it… It’s too heavy.  It weighs me down.”

“A heart’s a heavy burden.”

Law swallows thickly, “Why did you stay?  Why didn’t you leave?”

“I wanted to see you again.” You say, your face so sweet and bright that it makes Law want to double over.  How could you say something like that so so easily?

He’s not sure what compels him to step forward and kiss you.  His hand grabbing the back of your neck and tugging you close as his mouth collided with yours.  It’s awkward, and stiff, just like Law is.

“Stay… please stay.” He murmurs.

You gasp softly against his mouth and Law greedily swallows the sound.  Your lips are soft and you taste like sugar.  You must have eaten some sort of dessert recently.  Or maybe you were just naturally this sweet.  It would make sense.

You’re a much better kisser than Law is, he realizes after a moment and he find it’s horribly embarrassing, his face burning. You’re confident in your movements as you deepen the kiss, your body relaxed as you curl an arm around his neck to pull him closer.  Your tongue easily glides against his bottom lip, giggling at Law’s panicked expression.  Law’s hand drops from your neck to hover over your hip, his fingers just barely brushing the fabric.

He’s doing it.  He’s really doing it.  He’s kissing you.  The moment he’s been dreaming for since the night he met you has finally come and he feels strangely giddy.

“Thank you.” He breathes against your soft lips.  He’s not sure what he’s thanking you for.  For waiting for him? For being part of his crew? For existing?

He can’t tell you everything on his mind.  How much you mean to him, how badly his heart aches for you.  So he tries to pour it into his movements.  His eyes squeeze shut, he’s afraid that he’ll lose his courage if he looks at you.  And he pushes you up against the wall.

“Thank you.” Law pants against your mouth.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

One hand claws at your shirt to press his palm against your heart, the organ beating fast beneath his touch.  His other hand grabs your wrist and presses your fingers to his own heart.

“It’s yours.” Is all he says before ducking down for a soft kiss.  And then another. And another.

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