#I miss sinner's bane

[allseeingportrait]

considering doing a MASSIVE lair purge in flight rising just because i'm not in love with my lore anymore

[greenandsorrow]

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 the 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 narrow 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 is 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 you 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 heat... 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... he always tucks his 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 deer 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 maybe he 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 door.

This sudden surprise 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 for you, your smell becomes so strong to his heightened senses that he almost cums in his pants from it. Your friend swallows 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 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... makes 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 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, his 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 new. 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, Al 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 his 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. Al'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 pain. 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 his 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. He needs to fuck something, anything, his eyes are gleaming with lust.

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 powerful 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, 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 deer 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 an effect on Alastor, his demon form receding... and you can see how sweaty and shaky he really is, while 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 the bulge on his pants.

Alastor gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head as he leans into your touch. He's already so aroused that any contact is sending 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, his 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 a step, his erection painfully asking 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 is watering as your eyes take in Alastor's cock. The head of it is a deep reddish purple, almost glowing with arousal. His ballsack hangs heavy, clearly 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, gently playing with 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 pitty for him, teasing is fun, but you don't want to disrespect him or humiliate him while he's so vulnerable and not in 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 peak 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 in the hotel's kitchen. You begin to sink 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 deer 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 with consistency now.

The radio demon closes his eyes, ragged breaths leaving his open mouth as you're jerking him off. Every fiber of his being is focused on the pleasure. He groans... feeling his elusive climax approaching at last. His monocle almost falls from his nose. "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 shuddering 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 y/n."

"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 this 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 hadn'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 for 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 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, while he has a perfect view of your ass and tail.

You gasp as he parts your folds with his thumb, finding your 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 thrust 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 of you.

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 having you blushing 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 content at the same time. You roll over so that you're facing him... and he looks like he's already 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 in 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 a fact 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 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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[lu-is-not-ok]

Wait hold on, what line in canto 2 about bitten off fingers?

Ask and you shall recieve, the bit of dialogue that has been a freeloader in my brain for no fucking reason!

So, in case you forgot what happens in Canto 2 (which I feel like a lot of the fandom did), the context for this is that all of the Sinners are hiding away from sight of the guards in front of the Vault, huddled together enough of a distance away for it to take a bit before the Sinners notice there's Peccatula locked away in cages.

That particular cutscene ends on this bit of dialogue.

Now. This bit of dialogue has been stuck in my mind for a long fucking time, because there's so much about it that feels so odd.

For one, this is one of the few times we're directed to pay attention to Hong Lu's mannerisms, the way he seems to add those stupid comments after making genuinely good observations, as if to make himself look dumber. Dante notices this is a pattern, but at this point they don't know Hong Lu well enough to recognise why he does that, plus later developments in the story lead Hong Lu to be a bit more open about his intelligence, enough for Dante to make note of the fact that Hong Lu is smarter than he acts.

But that's not the part that struck me the most. No, it's the fact he says that line at all.

Consider the context of the scene. The Sinners are hiding away at a distance, they can't get too close without revealing themselves. Hong Lu, at enough of a distance to not be seen, not only noticed that there's people missing fingers and other body parts, but was able to recognise that they were Specifically Bitten Off.

This is Hong Lu we're talking about. The guy who acted shocked upon seeing a torn down building, and whose reaction to wearing a disguise is effectively going "oh, just like in the movies!". Why the fuck would a guy like that know what a human bite wound looks like. Know what it looks like well enough to recognise it at a distance no less.

And before anyone goes "oh but Lu, how do you know it's caused by a human?", it's the only option that makes sense in context. The Peccatula are locked in cages and aren't released until after the Sinners are caught, plus with the shocked reactions the guards have to the Peccatula turning on them, it's clear there were no previous incidents like that.

This bit of dialogue has been the bane of my existence, almost entirely because it happened Specifically In Canto 2, the canto that foreshadows so fucking much in random lines of dialogue just because there's enough comedy to distract you from noticing them.

[dandelion-bride]

0.5k words, my offering in the "letter from Gortash to the missing Dark Urge" genre.

read on AO3 or below cut:

a letter, folded and forgotten in a desk in Wyrm's Rock Fortress, without address or signature:

I remember the rage in your eyes, the day I first met you. Utterly unharnessed anger, messily tied shut like a bag with an unwanted litter thrown into the gutter, collected within the barely controlled bhaalspawn you were. As we cleared the path in the House of Wonder, I watched it slowly drain out, spent on each kill. And yet, as if fueled by Hellfire itself, the hostility grew back with every moment, a never-ending source of energy for you to wield. I saw the capacity in you. I knew you were strong enough to be whatever you set yourself to. With my guidance, you could make that hatred serve you, instead of serving it.

I feared you might kill me, that first night. How fortunate we both were, that your devotion saw reason.

What a pair we were, my boy! I recall the first time I had you serve as my personal guard, when some overborn lout with more blue blood than brains disparaged you in front of me. I was resigned to keeping him alive up until that moment, but when he spoke, you looked to me first. I gave that nod, and watching you… I confess to you I feel a shiver of invigoration run down my spine. You know I find most death to be boring, a cumbersome task to be handled; but the arc in the blood spray from the wound you struck, the droplet patterns on the wall and floor, they are memories I delight to recollect.

Those first few months were a whirlwind of crimson and gold. The deaths you inflicted opened rich veins of opportunity that my operations still mine. The partnership of Bane and Bhaal is glorious when their servants know their place.

She does not know her place. She delights in being contrary, in spurning our Design. Your presence as Bhaal's Chosen is sorely missed.

I remember my rise in the ranks of the good people of the Gate, and your assistance with it. I hold with particular fondness the night at the debutante ball of Alicia Greythane. You drank yourself silly to quiet your divine Father's impulse to blood, and babbled such childishness to me in the garden. You needed only one thing: a mentor, a senior, a guide. These were such titles as Raphael claimed towards me. But I knew better than he, I learned from his incompetence. And you, learning from my guidance, thrived! The Temple grew stronger, your flock increased, and your impish butler lost the shakes that plagued him. Devils do take financials ever so seriously.

And then we took on the vaults of Mephistar, and you made your advance. You were always so very earnest. You could play coy, but your sincerity always came out in the end.

You made me a sinner, my boy.

They say you Bhaalists commemorate your dead on the Night of the Moon. That you speak the great kills you made. So here I am, writing about your life on the last of Mirtul.  I hear you ask, my boy, ever curious, why do so?  It is because of something my dearest mother told me long ago: I was always a contrary little shit.

She will not say you died. She crows and taunts me, but she will not lie.

You always obeyed my most ardent commands, and so I give this one to you: Return.

[poem-today]

A poem by Robert Burns (for Burns Night)

To A Louse

On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church 1786

At Church Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her- Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it- The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't?

O Jeany, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!

Robert Burns (1759-1796)

Glossary

ferlie= a wonder or marvel strunt=swagger wonner=a wonder (contemptuous) haffet=lock of hair at the temple sprattle=scramble fatt'rels=ribbon-ends groset=gooseberry rozet=resin smeddum=spirit dress=chastise droddum=backside aiblins=perhaps toy=woman's old-fashioned cap with ear-flaps dubbie=muddy wyliecoat=flannel vest.

[razzbarry]

What if the Gotham Rouges were a sitcom…

I’m thinking like a cross between the office and regular show. They all chill in a big Super Base where they plan schemes and shit but they’re the Gotham Rouges. The Party City Sinners. The OG Alphabet Mafia.

They don’t know how to do anything.

The rouges try to figure out who is the strongest through a competition. (Bane is excluded for obvious reasons but they let him be a judge.)

Joker and Crane accidentally create a zombie apocalypse with a new chemical, and they have to stop the spread before it destroys Gotham (and their revenue).

Jervis goes on the bachelor but no one likes him because he’s fuckin weird.

Eddie tries to do normal shit (go to Starbucks, get groceries, eat at restaurants) because he low key misses being a normal guy, but he is saddened to see that no one recognizes him without the suit. (Eddie will die if he isn’t given attention.)

Harley starts a vlog channel. YouTube doesn’t have the balls to take it down.

Victor is the only villain with brain cells, and he only shows up to be a deus ex machina and save all of their dumb asses.

Edward and Joker get into a prank war. Soon enough, the entire gallery is divided and they destroy the building.

Selina considers joining them officially, but they would just tarnish her brand.

Harley steals people’s phones and tweets on their accounts like “500k rts and I’ll post my nudes”

Lex Luthor comes to visit and it’s like when someone from corporate comes to check on the location, so everyone is really tense.

Everyone just kind of treats Bane like a stress ball. When they get frustrated, they just punch him until they feel better. (They do this because the last time Joker got really pissed off, they all had to get new cars. Including Joker himself.)

Ivy only ever shows up when she needs to borrow something, (like chemicals or a henchman) so when she does appear, everyone makes bets on her cliches.

Eddie: 20 bucks she says “It always smells like hair bleach and burning in here.”

Two-Face: 22 if she says it within the next 5 minutes.

Joker: 30 if she says it in the next 10 seconds.

Eddie: How can you-

Joker: Hey Pam! Do you smell that? It stinks like hell!

Ivy: Yeah. It always smells like hair bleach and burning in here.

Joker: Pay up, chump!

Two-Face: That doesn’t count, you cheater!

Eddie is basically the temp in the group. “Get me a coffee, since you’re not busy.” “Can you go with my henchies to drop off a gun delivery?” “Help me lift this table, I’m gonna drop it on Croc’s head.”

Clayface doesn’t go to the meetings anymore because the last time he did, Hugo Strange tried to trap him in a jar.

I could honestly do this all day. I want it to be real.

[p-isforpoetry]

"To a Louse" by Robert Burns (read by Robert Carlyle)

Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place.

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her - Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body.

Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it - The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum.

I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin.

O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!

 (*click for the Standard English Translation*)

"To a Louse" by Robert Burns (Standard English Translation)

Ha! Where are you going, you crawling wonder? Your impudence protects you sorely, I can not say but you swagger rarely Over gauze and lace, Though faith! I fear you dine but sparingly On such a place

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder, Detested, shunned by saint and sinner, How dare you set your foot upon her - Such fine a lady! Go somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body

Off! in some beggar's temples squat: There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble, With other kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle Your thick plantations

Now hold you there! you are out of sight, Below the falderals, snug and tight; No, faith you yet! you will not be right, Until you have got on it --- The very topmost, towering height Of misses bonnet.

My sooth! right bold you set your nose out, As plump and gray as any gooseberry: O for some rank, mercurial resin, Or deadly, red powder, I would give you such a hearty dose of it, Would dress your breech!

I would not have been surprised to spy You on an old wife's flannel cap: Or maybe some small ragged boy, On his undervest; But Miss's fine balloon bonnet! fye! How dare you do it.

O Jenny do not toss your head, And set your beauties all abroad! You little know what cursed speed The blastie's making! Those winks and finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takiing!

O would some Power the gift to give us To see ourselves as others see us! It would from many a blunder free us, And foolish notion: What airs in dress and gait would leave us, And even devotion!

[florbelles]

20 OTP QUESTIONS

tagged by @risenlucifer, thank you legend 💕

tagging @tomexraider @abosaa @returnofthepd3 @nightwingshero @chuckhansen @spicevalleys @foofygoldfish @tommymillers (macy you better deliver soft moel i s2g) @softmillers @shallow-gravy @callmeredhood @raisinghellinotherworlds @joeyhxdson @trialandseed and anyone else can @ me <3

did this fluff meme for the local sadomasochists because in the end the real sadomasochist was me

1) who can outdrink the other?

i mean lyra is a tiny ass person but she’s also a champ so honaestly? lyra’s gonna drink him under the table.

2) who says “i love you” more?

literally only john ever says this (and that’s primarily thanks to joseph’s advisement). lyra will call him her heart, her everything, literally anything else, but she won’t say she loves him because it’s a lie she heard and told too often; she doesn’t know how to say it honestly, and that terrifies her. cries about it quite a bit to be honest

3) who has trouble sleeping alone?

both of them, actually; it wasn’t a problem for lyra before, but at some point she realizes she can no longer sleep if she can’t count his breaths and feel his pulse. she always falls asleep after he does.

4) who swears more?

lyra casually, she uses it as punctuation when she wishes to make a point; john busts it out more when he’s upset.

5) who does more of the housework?

john theoretically, but honestly, the peggies handle a lot of the mundane household tasks around the ranch.

6) who forgets their anniversary?

neither of them, but lyra has to remember longer and she has to remember more.

7) who steals the duvet in their sleep?

they’re usually a tangled mess when they sleep, honestly, so anything “stolen” is gonna take the other person with it. 

8) who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

john’s the only one who snores, but it doesn’t keep her awake; like i said, she can’t sleep without it at this point.

9) who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

lyra’s love affair with animals is the bane of john’s existence but he’s just gotta live with it, honestly. is that a bear in the yard? yes, it is. he lives here now. have fun john! is that the dog i tried to send to jacob? why yes, if you lay a finger on him i’ll feed your balls to my cougar. i have a cougar now.

10) who usually makes dinner?

i mean. members of the project, usually, but lyra’s the most likely to get fed up and spite cook something that isn’t burnt venison.

11) who plays their music out loud?

lyra. john’s gonna have to live with it. the project’s music is forbidden; oh john came on in the car once while they were going at it and lyra’s had a personal vendetta ever since.

12) who hogs the bathroom?

neither, they’re both in there getting ready for hours like the vain gremlins they are. narcissist mirror sex? narcissist mirror sex.

13) who gives the most compliments?

john, once again because of lyra’s verbal intimacy/vulnerability issues, but sometimes -- oftener than either would admit at gunpoint -- he pretends to fall asleep so he can hear her start to sob and whisper that he’s perfect. tired lyra who thinks she’s the only one conscious is all-consumingly affectionate.

14) who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

oh, both. they deliberately provoke each other sometimes, especially in the beginning when they’re still testing each other’s boundaries; since neither of them are familiar with the concept of being loved unconditionally, they immediately try to find those conditions. it drops off when they realize no one’s going anywhere; lyra’s still the most likely to start shit, though.

15) who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

i mean. their collective existence is an embarrassment to humanity, but lyra’s more likely to publicly mock john purely because he’s generally more publicly mockable (and thanks to her resistance infiltration, she spends a fair amount of the time with his enemies; him undermining the judge of eden’s gate to the other peggies isn’t such a slick move). he did have wanted: sinner posters with an unfortunate photo from vegas printed up and spread throughout the county after he heard one too many unflattering rumors were flying around fall’s end, but that, he informs her pleasantly, is to help her cover. it ends up hanging over their fireplace for a month.

16) who gives the other cringeworthy pet names?

i mean, miss wrath/wrathy are kind of unfortunate if you count them, yes? they don’t get used in the context of pet names (or at all, really, once he realizes she isn’t there to threaten the project or joseph’s affections), though, so the answer is neither; lyra uses pet names primarily to create distance or to patronize people; the most intimate thing she can call you is your first name. her enemies are darling; her husband is john.

17) who fusses over the other when they get sick?

lyra’s the one who shows up with staples in her gut, so we’re gonna say john. she reacts even more poorly when he’s remotely injured or unwell, though.

18) who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

lyra’s wrath is swift and terrible and quickly spent; john’s more likely to harbor a grudge or bear resentments, which he does when she first rolls up to hope county; once they’re in a relationship their fuses both burn down pretty quickly, not because they’re incredibly healthy and in love but because they’re incredibly codependent and in love.

19) who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

they’re both clingers, honestly. not even when they’re sad or scared. they’re just clingers. they cling.

20) who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

oh, this is both of them, they’re a nightmare. this is the one area of intimacy they’re both exceptionally good at and comfortable with.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Mama, We All Go To Hell (part two)

[Tour!verse]

TW: Abuse, non-sexual child grooming, gaslighting, victim blaming, mentions of CSA

——————

When Bessie was very young, before moving into the castle, her mother used to shove her into the dark, stuffy “Sinners Room.” Clouded by smoke, hot from the burners, and illuminated only by the crimson glow of the fires, Bessie was forced to pray on her knees for hours.

Mother said God didn’t like little girls who didn’t keep up with her studies. Mother said bad little girls needed to be punished. The Sinners Room was created for that very purpose. It became the bane of Bessie’s existence, something she sped by when she passed it in the hallway. She always left it gasping for clean air and soaked in sweat, much to her mother’s disgust. It became a place of nightmares for her, a replica of literal hell.

And yet…

Right now, Bessie would have much preferred the Sinner’s Room.

The water spraying out of the shower hose was scalding hot. Liquid fire was shooting out onto her bare back, purposely positioned to beat into her scars.

(Catherine has sneered when he saw them.

“Really Elizabeth? Why must you fight? You should’ve liked what the king did to you.”)

Not a day goes by where Bessie wonders if she should have liked Henry’s treatment. Hearing her mother say she wasn’t a victim strengthens that belief.

(“B-but mother… I was thirteen when he was twenty-three-”

“So? I was ten when I had you! Stop complaining!”)

Tears well up in Bessie’s eyes. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was just whining…

But when a hand rubs across her shoulder blades, she doesn’t register it as her mother’s hand, rather Henry’s. He would enjoy her like this- curled up in the bathtub, shivering, completely naked.

Her scars start to hurt. She wants to shove Catherine away, but she knows she’s not allowed to do that to her mother. She knows the punishment if she even tries to struggle.

(Henry was the same way. If she made too much noise, then he would use her mouth more. If she struggled, then he yanked her hair. If she didn’t sit still, he’d rake his nails down her back like claws.)

A tiny whimper wormed its way out of Bessie’s throat. The hands roughly scrubbing her shoulders freeze.

“Is something wrong?” Her mother’s voice crooned from behind her ear.

“N-no.” Bessie said, but her voice is tight and pitched.

“Are you sure?” Catherine’s breath is hot on the back of her neck. Her hands trail down, smooth against Bessie’s hips and waist, then back up with her nails digging in. She feels her daughter squirm slightly in her hands.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Bessie squeaked, her voice pitching again.

“Oh aren’t you pitiful.” Catherine said, continuing her scrubbing with a scratchy sponge. “You know, you wouldn’t be shaking like you are if you would have just enjoyed it. I would have.”

Bessie makes a tiny noise. The sponge makes her scars feel raw. Catherine smirks when the skin eventually breaks open and starts to bleed from exertion.

“You were with the king. When he was still married! And he chose my baby girl.” Catherine pressed a soft kiss to the back of Bessie’s neck, making her shiver. “My special girl…”

Butterflies flutter wildly in Bessie’s stomach when her mother calls her that. Even in a situation like this, she still craved those possessive titles.

“You know what I think, sweetheart?”

Bessie gave a tiny, “Hmm?” Her eyes were shut and she tried to just relax.

“I think you actually liked it.”

But any chances of slight relaxation was thrown out the window.

Bessie went rigid. Fear shoots through her veins. Her stomach turns.

“I think you were loving what the king was doing. I bet you were hungry for his touch. Isn’t that right?” Catherine chuckled and stroked the top of Bessie’s head, “Oh, you dirty little slut.”

Bessie whimpered quietly. Catherine continued to play with her wet hair, chuckling.

“You’re playing the victim, eh? To get everyone on your side, drawing them in. You temptress! You really are my daughter...”

—————

Even though Bessie assured her mother she could sleep on the couch, Catherine practically forced her to sleep in her bedroom. Usually, Bessie would be thrilled, but the feeling of fingers all over her body have yet to disappear and the venom-laced words from Catherine still ring in her ears.

Maybe she was right. Maybe she wanted it all along.

Catherine’s arms tighten around Bessie’s torso. She’s coiled in her embrace, held close to the woman’s chest as she sleeps. Oh, how she wished it was a protective move to keep her child safe.

No. It was to keep her in place so she couldn’t run. So she couldn’t escape.

Just like Henry used to do...

The night is long and silent. Bessie only falls asleep because she pretends it’s Howard holding her.

She misses Howard.

Her real mother.

—————

It’s been two weeks since then. Bessie starts staying the night at her mother’s apartment more often. She’s distancing herself from everyone, allowing Catherine to become her whole world, whether she likes it or not.

—————

Bessie sits at the edge of the couch, holding a DVD case in her hands. The old plastic case is cracked and battered, but the disc contained within escaped any damage. She’s watched it herself- an apparent classic titled “Rear Window”. She knows her mother will enjoy it. Bessie just needs to get up and go to bedroom, where Catherine is no doubt bored of the latest TV special. Catherine will love to watch this, she just knows it!

So why can’t she move?

Instead of joining her mother in the bed, she rubs her fingers nervously along the plastic, exasperating its tears. The beating of her heart is elevated, and her skull is clammy with sweat.

Fed up with herself, she jumps up, and makes it to the door in only a few swift strides. But her courage whimpers as she grabs the doorknob. She just has to open the door, but her arms are like lead.

Stupid, indecisive Bessie. Is it any wonder nobody likes you?

Rallying herself, she manages at last to open the door. Near sick with dreadful anticipation, she steps inside the bedroom, the DVD case held firmly against her chest.

Catherine doesn’t look over at her, not even when one of the floorboards creak. Bessie stops about a foot from the bed, which her mother is laying on, working dutifully on her laptop.

“Um.” Bessie’s voice is thready. “M-mother, I found this copy of a-a movie that I thought…” Her prepared request dies in her chest as Catherine finally looks over at her. Her grey eyes are cold, flat.

“You ‘thought’ what?”

“I…I thought.” She clutches the DVD tighter. Like a feeble shield. “I thought we could watch it…together?”

Bessie squirms under Catherine’s withering gaze.

“Why would I ever want to watch something with you? It’s not like you’d understand it, anyway.”

“I-I-” Bessie knew she was smart. Parr said she was, so it’s gotta be true. But she wasn’t one to disobey her mother, so she doesn’t say anything against the comment, “Maybe you could explain…”

Catherine snorts and Bessie shrinks backwards.

“I’m sorry-”

“Can’t speak properly without stuttering, teenage whore, too weird to land a real job. I’m the one stuck paying all the bills, and now you want me to take time out of the few free hours I have to attempt to do something with you?”

“N-Nevermind. It was stupid.”

Stupid, stupid Bessie.

Catherine’s gaze flicks up and down Bessie’s form.

“And for fuck’s sake, could you be wearing shorter shorts?” Catherine sneers.

Embarrassment rises to Bessie’s face. The shorts really weren’t that short; they just about reached her knees, but her mother was right. She must look ridiculous.

“You’re right. I’ll change. I-I have to go get ready for the show, anyway.”

Catherine shook her head and stood up. She strides over to Bessie, who shrinks back and flinches when she takes one of her hands. She runs her nails over the calluses that have formed from playing bass and made a tsktsktsk sound.

“What a waste.”

In one swift movement, she slams her daughter’s fingers in the door.

—————

Bessie’s hand was on fire. Every twitch of her finger sent strings of fire blazing through her nerves, alighting flames in her knuckles. All she could really do was bite her lip and hold back her tears when she got ready to perform.

(She was using a replacement bass. Joan has yet to get over the one that got destroyed. Bessie is convinced the music director now hates her.)

Aragon notices the girl’s obvious discomfort right at the start, along with the deep purple bruises on her fingers. She wants to ask about it, but she has to wait until after the show. The entire time, she keeps a close eye on Bessie, who is certainly gritting her teeth throughout the whole thing.

Once the curtain closes, Aragon skips stage door to go check on Bessie, who retreated to her dressing room. There, she finds the girl fumbling with her costume while hiccuping and sniffling.

“Elizabeth?”

The girl freezes, inhaling sharply.

“Elizabeth, what’s going on? Why is your hand like that?”

A tiny whimper bubbles forth, but Bessie is quick to bite it back. Aragon approaches her slowly, so slowly, and she completely forgets that she’s supposed to despise the girl.

“Elizabeth,” Aragon said again, this time much softer. She circles around to where she’s facing Bessie and her heart clenches at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are you okay?”

Bessie nods. But then Aragon looks at her the way she used to, when she was hurt or sad or ill as a child, and it all came crashing down onto her.

All at once, Bessie shatters.

Aragon barely has enough time to catch the girl before she hits the ground when her knees go out. She lowers her to the floor and the poor thing is instantly clinging her, digging her face into her shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably. The queen’s hands hover over her back in shock before holding her tightly, practically bundling her against her chest.

And she finds that she doesn’t even care about the studded leather scratching against her or the fact that Bessie was making a mess on her shoulder.

Bessie cries painful hard for a long time. Weeks worth of terror and trauma and anguish and agony coming back with so much power and force that it almost makes her sick. She coughs and wheezes and hyperventilates in Aragon’s arms, who can only watch in horror because she never really knew how bad the girl’s condition was until right now.

(That certainly made her guilty.)

Eventually, Bessie cried herself out to near exhaustion. She was slumped in Aragon’s lap, panting and breathing heavily. That’s when Aragon finally decided to ask what had happened and Bessie doesn’t hold back. She just doesn’t care anymore. She tells the queen everything.

And Aragon is livid.

“Jane,” Aragon called, “Jane!”

The queen hurries in, eyeing Bessie worriedly. They all had heard the crying, but stayed out of it at Aragon’s command.

“Get Katherine, will you? Poor thing needs her mother so badly.” Aragon sighed, stroking the top of Bessie’s head while she said this.

Jane nodded and left the room with one final glance in Bessie’s direction. It isn’t long until a hot pink whirlwind enters the dressing room. Howard is immediately down by Aragon’s side, and the elder queens starts to carefully transfer Bessie into her lap.

“Shh, shh,” Aragon murmured when Bessie whimpered softly, “Hush, darling. It’s just your mother.”

Howard quirked a brow at the pet name Aragon used. And if her calming down Bessie wasn’t weird enough...

However, she didn’t dwell on that long when the shivering girl now curled up in her arms began to apologize. Her voice was so weak and hoarse, and fresh tears started to flow down her cheeks.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Howard soothed, rocking her daughter, “Don’t apologize. Whatever happened is not your fault. I promise.”

“B-but-” Bessie was cut off by her phone going on several times. She whimpered softly and Howard’s hand came up to the back of her head to press her face back against her chest, shielding her protectively. Gingerly, Aragon checks the messages and, like that, she’s storming out of the room like a livid lioness that was primed for blood.

If Howard weren’t holding her precious daughter, she would have done the exact same thing.

Where are you?

You better get your ass back home in ten minutes or else

I’m going to scrape you raw

Filthy slut. I know what you’ve done.

Nobody will ever love you. You’re a disgusting whore. The only person who can love someone like you is me.

I’m going to make you bleed, little girl.

You were loved.

Bessie sobbed audibly into Howard’s chest, her entire body seizing with a painful spasm. Howard drops the phone and pulled her daughter closer, rubbing up and down her spine to calm her.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl, I’m so sorry,” She whispered into Bessie’s messy hair, “That horrible woman will never touch you again, you hear me? I promise. I’ll never let her hurt you again.”

Bessie nodded feebly. She dissolves into tired sniffles and hiccups, too weak to cry anymore. The sight of her, shivering and pale and so, so scared, made Howard’s heart tighten.

“Mama, I don’t f-feel good,” Bessie whispered. “Wanna go home...please...”

“Of course,” Howard said, “You must be so tired. How does cuddling up and watching a movie sound? Or you can just rest. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

Bessie nods again.

It seemed that the latter was the thing that ended up happening. Bessie is unconscious by the time they get back to the queen’s house, still shaking and whimpering, even in her blacked out state. Howard gets her changed into the softest pajamas she has, which the girl barely wakes up for, and by the time she’s finished she’s limp in the queen’s arms again.

Aragon finally comes home an hour later. She goes to Howard’s room to find the queen watching TV with Bessie bundled up beside her. A tiny smile twitches on her lips.

“How is she?” She whispered.

“Shaken up.” Howard answered, threading her fingers through her daughter’s hair, “What did that woman do to her?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Aragon said while crossing over to sit on the edge of the bed, “You may get a little worked up and that might startle Bessie.”

Howard nodded.

“Look at you,” She teased to try and lighten the mood, “You care about her.”

Aragon snorted lightly.

“You forget,” She said, “I was her mother before you.”

A tiny mumble caught her attention. She and Howard both looked down to see Bessie squirming slightly. Her eyes were shut tightly.

“Mama...” She whimpered.

“Shh, shh,” Howard immediately began to soothe her, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

Then, she glanced at Aragon, who was looking at Bessie with worried eyes. Reaching out, she takes the queen’s hand and sets it on Bessie’s head. Alighting old maternal instincts, Aragon’s fingers immediately began to stroke through the girl’s hair, making Howard smile.

“We’re both here.”

[renee-writer]

Hitman Chapter 18 Shock and Redemption

Claire woke in the darkest part of the predawn. She is uncomfortable in her clothes, her eyes and throat sandpapered by her tears, she is hungry and needs the loo. She uses the loo, takes a hot shower to rid herself of the nervous sweat, and then heads to the kitchen. She had missed dinner, her rumbling stomach reminds her.

She finds Brian nursing a cup of coffee.

‘’I am sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was up Mr. Fraser.’’

‘’Brian, my dear. Aye the coos need milked and feed as do the chickens and horses. My other boys and son-in law, will be here in a bit.’’

‘’Jamie, ‘’ a swallow as it hurts to say his name, ‘’ he doesn’t help?’’

He gives her a sad smile as she pours her own coffee and joins him. ‘’Nae Claire. I lost my eldest for a time after he came back from his service to Queen and country. But lately, he is starting to come back to us. It is thankful I am.’’

She wonders how much he knows. Taken a deep breath, she decides to ask him for a favor. ‘’Brian, would you have a place I could stay, here but away from the main house?’’

He frowns at her. ‘’Ye and Jamie have a fight?’’

‘’Yes and no. He told me some things I must process. I need some time and space.’’ He looks at her closely and nods.

‘’Aye Claire. A croft a half a kilometre away. If you are ready I will take you out there. I will have the cook bring ye some breakfast. Should Jamie ken where ye are?’’

‘’That is fine. I am not hiding from him. I just need time.’’ She gathers her things and Brian drives her out to the sweet croft cabin.

‘’You call if you need anything?’’

‘’I will. Thank you.’’

Jamie wakes and goes to Claire's room. He finds a note on the bed.

Jamie,

I am still here on the estate. I have not and will not leave. We need to talk but I need time to think. You have given me a lot to think about. Please keep seeing Father Bane. You are doing good work. Your father knows where I am. Please don’t come to me. I will come to you.

Claire

He finds his father. ‘’Da, is she okay?’’

‘’Jamie lad, she needs time to think. All women do sometime. Your own mam did the same when she found herself carrying Robbie. He wasn’t planned, ye ken. She was overwhelmed and needed time to think.’’

He recalled her pregnancy with Robbie. It had been tough, mainly spent in bed. He nods.

‘’She came out, we did, alright on the other side. You two will also. She loves you son. She didn’t head home. Just give her time.’’

He gets breakfast and heads to church. After the stations of the cross and mass, he goes to see Father Bane.

‘’She didn’t leave me,’’ he tells him through his tears, ‘’ needs time to think, but didn’t leave.’’

‘’James, what do you think you need to do now?’’

‘’I have closed everything down, the web site, the hidden e-mail, have only kept the money I earned through publishing, all other has been given away; I keep the records only for this, I think I need to move out of London.’’

‘’That is all well and good but Ghost will follow, wherever you go. He keeps trying to come out. How do you get rid of Ghost?’’ He lets him think a minute. ‘’You must forgive yourself for the lads death. It isn't your fault. You were doing your job for Queen and country. You didn’t lift him into the path of the bullet. You didn’t do that evil thing. His father did. He is facing God's judgement. But Jamie, the lad is resting in the arms of Jesus.

Think about it, you kill men that hurt women and children. You keep trying to undo what happened to Saleem. You can’t. All you can do is forgive yourself. The stations of the cross and mass daily so you can start to atone for your grief and guilt. Most important, you need to forgive yourself.’’

‘’I dinna ken if I can. I have hurt so many. Claire and, oh God, so many people. Saleem.’’

Father Bane takes his trembling hands. ‘’Let’s ask the Almighty for His help.’’ He leads him in the sinner's prayer, admitting his sins, seeking forgiveness and redemption, seeking God’s daily, hourly, minutely, help in forgiving himself. Both are freely crying at the end, tears of relief and the start of peace.

‘’My son, whenever you feel Satan’s guilt creep in, remind him Who's child you are. Just whisper in your soul, ‘Father forgive me and help me forgive myself.’ It will be a struggle, maybe a lifelong one but, you have made a grand start. Mass and the Stations everyday, see me every other day.’’

‘’Thank ye.’’ He hugs him tight.

He heads home and to the stables. He starts to muck them out, something he hadn’t done in years. Robbie joins him and they work together, talking and laughing. Laughing! Brian heard him as he walks up. A single tear runs out of his eye. His son is home at last.

[theprojectatedensgate]

19. “I wouldn’t want you messing up your hair.” John/Dep

“I wouldn’t want you messing up you hair.”

John raised his hands in defence, his posture shifting so that he was stood to attention, the barrel of Dep’s gun pointed straight at his chest. His eyes narrowed at the Deputy as he struggled to take in what they said.

“What?!” he hissed, careful not to move suddenly or come across too hostile, this was a bad situation. He was caught out in the open and he looked ridiculous being held up this way. It was embarrassing enough having a gun pointed at him when he couldn’t reach his own, but the fact it was the Deputy? The one who had being causing so much grief? This couldn’t possibly get any worse. Or better, every situation he got involved with the Deputy in, provided him with a fulfilment of cat and mouse. 

“Did I stutter? I wouldn’t want you messing up your hair! If you make a move I’m gonna’ have to put a bullet in you and that would mess up your hair.” Rook explained calmly, “And knowing you, you probably spent a lot of time on it. How long does it take you in the morning John? what, ten, twenty minutes? What complete waste of time that would be huh?” Rook couldn’t help but chuckle at it all. They could mock John all they wanted and he couldn’t do shit.

John’s mouth hung open in speechlessness. He didn’t think he had ever been more surprised or offended in his life. He was certainly a lot quicker than twenty minutes, twelve at a push. And he put a lot effort into his hair, his ego was bruised. 

“Leave my hair out of this. Now there must be something you want otherwise you would of shot me by now. Just tell me so I can just leave.”

“Hmm, not necessarily… Perhaps it’s just nice for the roles to switch you know? You always get to threaten me, and do scary shit and I want a turn.”. John scowled at that, like his authority was being questioned.

“I serve the will of the Father. All I’m doing is trying to save your soul, Deputy. Even if you resist. The ones who deny the project are most in need of it’s salvation. And I will pass no judgement on you… No matter how messy it gets.” His lips tugged into a grin at his defence. “All you have to say is Yes.” 

Rook rolled their eyes. “Oh just cut the bullshit John. I hear this all the time, even when you staring down the hole of silver death, you still tell me to say yes.” They laughed lightly “You’re unbelievable.”. John’s eyes never strayed from Rook or the barrel, scanning over them and searching for any possible weakness. if they moved just a little or looked away at the right moment, he could pounce and over power them. 

“I’m giving you every chance Deputy, you could-”

“No John you don’t get to make the demands right now remember?” Rook interrupted him, and rage flashed in his blue eyes. “The one behind the gun tends to have the upper hand.” Deputy looked John over and he felt vulnerable under their gaze, the hemmed and hawed to themselves, thinking about what they wanted out of this. They could humiliate him? They could just kill him and be done with it, but where was the fun in that? Then the idea lit up in their head. “Give three reasons, why I shouldn’t just pull the trigger and let you bleed.” Rook’s teeth gritted together at the last syllable, their grip on the handle increased. 

A million and one thoughts rushed through John’s mind. Why should he have to prove himself to them? He knew why he should live, people needed saving. There were so many atonement’s to complete and sins to absolve. The Project wouldn’t last without him, the sinners would win. But that didn’t matter to The Deputy, they weren’t part of Edens Gate. They needed a reason unique to them, but had anyone asked John’s opinion of them, he would’ve said that they were a “reckless soul, lost to sin”. That they were selfish and wrathful and full of Pride. They were so consumed by their hatred and ignorance of the Lord that they only existed to cause misery. That’s what he would say to everyone, but what about to himself? In truth, The Deputy provided him with a sense of fulfilment, to purge Hope County of the wrath of the Rookie? He jumped at the chance.  But they always missed his shots causing him to twist and turn after them in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Eventually, John realised that they were all he thought about, constantly planning new ways to force a confession. He became obsessed with them, he couldn’t control them and he hated it, he was so used to people doing what he wanted. The fact that they refused him? He resented them for it. He wanted their confession, he wanted to cleanse them, he wanted to control them. He was fixated on their every movement and his stomach fluttered with tension whenever he saw them. John didn’t understand these feelings, the only person he was used to caring for was himself, he was supposed to hate the Deputy and the hatred was there, but it had evolved into something more intriguing, Fascination.

“I have plenty of reasons why I should live.” He answered arrogantly, sending Dep’ a confident smirk. Rook responded with a delighted grin, looking forward to his explanation. 

“Go ahead.”

“Firstly, I should live because if you shoot me now, that’s a waste of your time, not only that but people will hear the shot, my men will come looking.” Rook looked on with intrigue, nodding and humming at his replies. “Secondly, you’re a police officer, you can’t just shoot people. I haven’t attacked you or caused you harm in anyway, you killing me would be cold blooded murder.” John’s expression turned grim as he spoke, holding a serious tone. “Lastly, I don’t think you could kill me if you wanted to Deputy.”. This caught Rook’s attention, they looked on, wide eyed with surprise.

“And what makes you think I don’t want to?” 

“Because you enjoy this just as much as I do.” John flashed his teeth and his expression darkened. He looked at Rook with desperation but retained a calm exterior, attempting to cover up his uncertainty. Rook’s grinned reached their ears and they giggled to themselves. How could they enjoy anything that involved him? He was the bane of their existence, they would gladly end him for the cause. Wouldn’t they? Dep’s smile was fleeting, as they sunk into deep thought. They thought about a world without John, without his harassment, his constant challenging of Rook, his dramatic flair. John may be unpredictable and dangerous, but the world would surely be boring without him. It wasn’t one they wanted to live in. The game was always the same, John kidnapping them, torturing and keeping them locked away, Rook would manage to escape and he would lose his mind and hunt for them again. The cycle continued. But they did not know of anything else, they had been doing this since they arrived and often found themselves now looking forward to Johns confrontations. Dep’ gained immense satisfaction from pissing him off. 

Rook hesitated, looking into John, searching for something, internally battling themselves in thought. They slowly lowered the gun so the barrel faced the ground. Eye’s not leaving him once, as the tucked it into their thigh holster. A grin with teeth exploded onto John’s face. He had passed their test. He had won. The smugness radiated off of him waves, he moved closing the gap between them and Rook’s hand went for the gun again. He stopped, making a clear boundary and he nodded his head. “See Deputy, I’m right. You want me around don’t you?.”

“I wouldn’t go that far John.” Rook huffed and kicked at the dirt, refusing to meet John’s intense stare. He bit his lip in frustration at their denial. “But, you’re no fun to me dead.” John chuckled and took a step closer before they were near touching. 

“But it is fun for you isn’t it Deputy? You can’t help it, you don’t want to like it but you do. It’s all you want.” He ran his hand around the back of their head and titled it upwards to face him, he wrapped the other tatted hand around their throat, holding them in place. But Rook didn’t move for their gun, it was John’s move after the stunt they just pulled, it was his turn. Their eyes met and they were caught in each others focus. His vision flickered over their face, eventually landing on their lips shortly before moving back up to meet them again. He grip on their throat squeezed before he pulled them flush against him. They were in such shock of John’s actions, they didn’t notice when his hand moved from their head, ran down their spine and reached into his pockets. Before they could react, a sharp, cold sting bit into their flesh on their upper thigh, feeling an icy sensation flood into their veins.  Their vision blurred and white stars danced in the haze, John appeared to fade, but his hold lingered now lowering them gently to the ground. The Deputy lost all their function in their limbs, arms and legs falling limp, pins and needles coursing through their body. John’s hand remained cupping the back of their skull as his other ran over their hair, smoothing it out. He leaned in close, smirk prominent, taking on a whisper.

“Shhh, Deputy. I wouldn’t want you messing up your hair.”

Thanks for requesting! Sorry for the wait!

[authornylak]

It's time. 💥 . 😯😯😯😯 . #QOTD 👉🏼Have you read Pretty Reckless by @authorljshen yet? Drop a comment and let me know what you loved about it! (Or if it's on your TBR!) . You guys know I was binging the Sinners of Saint series, and WOW I'm glad I did it that way because these boys are FIRE🔥 And their ladies are as strong as they come! . Special shoutouts to Baron Spencer for being the King, Dean Cole for being awesome, and Roman freaking Protsenko for stealing the show! Honestly, I am a little more obsessed with Bane than I can explain to you right now🤤 He reminded me SO MUCH of a more carefree version of JR from What It Takes (my WIP Midnight City series standalone). . Read my review of Bane on Goodreads and Bookbub! And while you're there follow me 😁 . And now... I'm FINALLY reading the # 1 Best Seller in our genre so far this year! One of the most anticipated and talked about books, of the most anticipated and talked about series... The kids are all grown up now. And All Saints High is a jungle.👑 . Like my moving-chic background? 😆😆😆 My house is so full of boxes I can barely move. But we march on! . Don't forget to check out my Takeover tonight at 10pm EST on the Love2Read Romance Party Room! The fun's going on now until midnight and you don't wanna miss it! 🎉🎉🎉🎉 https://www.instagram.com/p/BydbwhpAdRX/?igshid=a86o8ljnbh44

[scotianostra]

Glasgow University Robert Burns Window. 

If ever a poet understood the character of his nation, he was Robert Burns. The language he was most fluent in wasn’t so much Scots or English – it was the language of the heart. All too human in his personal life, he carried that humanity over onto the page. Nothing was too small or too large to escape his notice, from a louse "On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church” to God in his heavens. A poet for all seasons, Burns speaks to all, soul to soul.

To A Louse (1786)

Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place. Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her- Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body. Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations. Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it- The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet. My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum. I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't? O Jeany, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin. O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!

[theidofdav]

I think me grandfather is around, I keep running into Scottish manifestations lately. From the poet Robert Burns: To A Louse On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church 1786 Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place. Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her- Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body. Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations. Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it- The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet. My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum. I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't? O Jeany, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin. O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion! #robertburns #itsawoolyaphidreally #southernrules #livingpoetry (at David's Crab House)