#do not fall for a man who stared the fire and promises to put it out

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 4

Part 3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･The fairy stirred in her sleep, tossing and turning because of the relentless knocking echoing through the night.

“Who’s knocking at this hour?” The girl rubbed her eyes, feeling a bit frantic.

She rolled off her bed and landed on the cold floor with a thud. [Name] groaned as she hit the ground. “Whoever’s out there is gonna get it,” she muttered, dusting off her nightgown and slipping on her fuzzy slippers before quietly making her way down the stairs. Suddenly, she spotted sparks of blue fire and a tuft of black hair.

“Who the heck is here at this hour?” Yuuken grumbled, clearly annoyed.

“That's what I was thinking,” [Name] said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

“It’s me, Ace! Just let me in, okay?” Ace’s muffled voice called from outside the door. Yuuken and [Name] sighed, and she turned the knob, flinging the rickety door open to reveal the boy sporting an obnoxious collar.

“Ace? It’s the middle of the night! W-what is that collar?!” Grim exclaimed, staring at the boy in disbelief.

“I can’t go back to Heartslabyul House. I’m joining your dorm. For good,” Ace said, leaning against the wall defiantly.

“No way?! I’d recognize that collar anywhere. It’s the same one that psycho put on me at orientation! What did you do to end up with that?” Grim asked, raising an eyebrow at Ace, who simply shook his head.

“I ate a tart.”

“You… ate a tart?” Yuuken echoed, his disbelief evident.

“Seriously?” [Name] blinked, struggling to wrap her head around the idea that someone would get collared for a tart. She burst into laughter, falling back and clutching her stomach. Ace looked annoyed; he was hoping for at least a little sympathy.

“Could you maybe stop laughing?” Ace mumbled, looking down in embarrassment. “I was a bit hungry, so I went to the dorm kitchen and found some tarts in the fridge. Three whole tarts! And they were huge!”

[Name] finally calmed down from her laughter.

“And... now here I am.”

“So... you’re both terrible? The dorm leader sounds worse than [Name]!” Grim chimed in.

[Name] shot Grim a look that clearly said, ‘You better watch it.’

“You don’t think it’s crazy for my magic to be sealed away just for eating ONE slice of tart?! For a mage, that’s like being tied up and unable to move! And there were three whole tarts! THREE! It’s not like he could eat them all by himself! Come on, you know this is messed up!” Ace fumed.

“I guess...?” Yuuken hesitated, unsure.

“I’d be just as mad if someone had taken my food,” [Name] shrugged.

“What kind of wishy-washy answer is that?! And seriously, [Name], you’re supposed to be on my side!” Ace protested.

“Yeah, but… I mean, if there were three of them, they were probably meant for a party. Maybe it was someone’s birthday or something? Look at me, I’m like a master detective!” Grim puffed out his chest proudly.

“A birthday party, huh…?” Ace mused.

“That would make sense,” Yuuken added quietly.

“Man… I thought you guys would be more sympathetic! I’m a victim of the housewarden’s tyranny here!” Ace lamented.

“Glad I didn’t end up in that dorm! I’d hate to be in your shoes,” [Name] teased the orange-haired boy.

“But you stole food! That’s not cool!”

“For once, I’m with the furball on this one!” [Name] agreed, her wings jingling in excitement.

“Stealing food is a serious offense,” Yuuken chimed in.

“Aw, you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Tomorrow, you need to go apologize,” Yuuken suggested, finally straightening up and returning to his serious demeanor.

“You don’t mess with another guy’s meal… Hey, wait a minute! I just realized I never got those cans of tuna the headmage promised me!”

“Yeah, I don’t think you’re getting that… You didn’t need it anyway.” The fairy poked at Grim’s furry belly with her foot.

“Okay, okay! I get that I should apologize. But you’re coming with me, [Name] and Yuuken. This was your idea, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuken nodded. [Name] was taken aback. Why was she being dragged into this mess?!

“Huh?! I didn’t even—”

“Anyway, do you have a place for me to crash tonight?” Ace interrupted.

“You were serious about that? Outside of my bedroom, this whole dump is covered in dust. So if you want to crash, you better start cleaning!” [Name] said.

“Dude, no way! I hate cleaning! Just let me stay with you, [Name]. I’m really slim. I won’t take up much space.” He nudged her, but she just stared back, causing him to pout.

“You wish.” [Name] turned her back to the boys and marched back to her room.

“Well, fine. The sofa it is. Night!”

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[Name] was totally in love with her uniform. She fiddled with the cute bow tie before adjusting her socks, admiring her reflection and giving herself a little spin. Then she paused, blinking as she pressed her skirt down in embarrassment, slowly turning around to check herself out.

“[Name], are you—” Yuuken stood at the door, his jaw hanging open. The girl’s usual glow turned a deep shade of red, a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“GET OUT! WHY DIDN’T YOU KNOCK?!” she screeched.

“Yes, ma’am!” Yuuken quickly slammed the door shut, leaving [Name] to calm her nerves.

“Oh my sevens,” she groaned, patting her face with her hands. “I just want to jump off a bridge right now.”

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“Move it! Out of the way! Night Raven College student coming through! Oh? Did my collar catch your eye? It’s way better than the one you’re stuck with! You know, the one that keeps you from using magic? But hey, the school could always use another janitor! Bwahahaha!”

“You’re so humble, Grim!” [Name] shot back sarcastically.

“I think he’s suffered enough, Grim,” Yuuken added.

“Grrrr! Trust me, Grim, once I get my magic back, you’re the first one I’m coming for!” Ace shot back, glaring at the cat.

“Didn’t the headmage JUST tell you yesterday to cut out the incidents? Besides, you won’t be able to participate in class if you can’t use magic. So why not just apologize to the housewarden? It’s a small price to pay to get that collar off,” Deuce advised.

“Aaaaargh! I hate this so! SO! Much!” Ace growled, yanking at the collar around his neck in frustration.

“I hate your whining more than you hate that collar,” [Name] said, casting an irritated glance at him.

“Hmm. You know, we still have some time to kill before class starts. I’m kinda curious about the other dorms. Guess I’ll go check them out while you do the whole groveling thing,” Grim said, tapping his chin with his paw.

“Since when did this turn into a field trip?!” Ace groaned.

“Field trip? More like a break! The boys have been staring at me like I have three heads.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re the only girl in the school?! Plus, you’re like the size of a magic pen!” Grim teased, poking her leg.

“I may be the only girl in the school, but I’m not the only girl in the world! And, for the record, I’m considered tall by tinker fairy standards!” The fairy’s wings flared up bright red as she turned around and flicked fairy dust at Ace and Grim.

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“Wow, this place is seriously nice! It’s like a whole different world compared to our cramped little dorm,” Grim said, taking in the surroundings with wide eyes.

“Hey, our dorm’s just a little rough around the edges, okay?” Yuuken chimed in, almost trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah, ‘a little rough’ is putting it lightly,” [Name] added with a smirk as she trailed behind Ace and Deuce towards the garden.

“Yesss! Time to get my paint on!” a voice suddenly called out from the garden.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Grim said, surprised.

“They’ve got to be all red, or it’s ‘off with my head!’” the mystery boy shouted back.

“Wait, I feel like I’ve heard this somewhere…” Yuuken murmured to himself as he processed the boy’s words.

[Name] shot Yuuken a confused glance. “Did you take something while I was napping?”

“Huh...? You guys need something?” The orange-haired boy paused his painting to look over at the group.

“What exactly are you doing?” 

[Name] facepalmed at the obviousness of the question. I mean, come on, with the red splatters everywhere and a paintbrush in hand, it was pretty clear.

“Are you serious? I'm painting these roses red, obviously.”

“Why on earth would you do that?!”

Deuce had a point; why change something that already existed? This dorm was definitely quirky.

The orange-haired boy just chuckled. “Ah ha ha! So clueless, you really put the ‘n’ in newbie! Hold up, I know you guys! You’re the ones who shattered that billion-thaumark chandelier and almost got kicked out! And you—” he pointed at [Name], “—you’re the cute girl everyone’s been talking about!”

[Name] couldn’t help but feel a little flattered. Maybe she was kinda cute after all. She smiled at him, making her fellow first years stare in disbelief.

“Wow, you are cute. Especially when you smile,” Ace said with a snicker, only for [Name] to grab him by the collar and push him back, her expression turning neutral again.

“Oh, knock it off,” [Name] rolled her eyes.

“And you! You’re the one who scarfed down the housewarden’s tart that night! You guys are like, the hottest topic on campus! I need to get in on this fame train. Mind if I grab a quick selfie? I’ll tag you all on Magicam!”

“I’m Deuce Spade.”

“Ace.”

“I'm Grim, and that’s my sidekick, Yuuken.”

“[Name],”

“Uploaded! Awesome! Oh, I’m Cater Diamond, by the way. I’m a junior here at Heartslabyul. Just call me Cater or Cay-Cay if you’re feeling wild! So nice to meet ya!” Cater flashed a peace sign.

“Nice to meet you too,” Yuuken said, trying to keep it together.

“Wait, you’re the prefect of that so-called Ramshackle House dorm, right? I can’t believe you live there! It looks like a total wreck on Magicam. No filter could save that place!”

“Hey, all you’ve done is throw shade at us!” 

“Whoops, my bad! I’m losing track of time! The party’s tomorrow, and if we’re not ready, it’s ‘off with my head!’ So, you kids wanna help me paint some roses?” Cater called out, referring to the first years as “kids,” which made [Name] fidget a bit, her wings twitching defensively.

“Uh, why exactly are you doing that?” Ace asked, puzzled.

“Because red roses are way more Instagrammable! Or... something like that? Then I have to get everything ready for the big croquet tournament, which means I need to paint all the flamingos too.” Cater sighed dramatically.

“Wait, why are you painting flamingos?!” [Name] exclaimed, fairy dust fluttering around from her outburst.

“Now it’s all coming together, Ace! That tart you munched on must’ve been for the housewarden’s birthday, which is why he flipped out!” Deuce said, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“Hm? Oh, no, it’s not Riddle's birthday,” Cater replied, leaving everyone even more confused.

“It’s not? Then whose birthday is it?” Ace asked, scratching his head.

“It’s no one’s birthday. Tomorrow is our dorm’s traditional unbirthday party! It’s this special tea party we throw when nobody has a birthday—if the housewarden feels like it,” Cater explained.

“And why do you even do that?” Ace pressed on.

“More questions! Listen, I need these roses to be red, like, yesterday! Can’t you guys help out with some magic or something? Oh wait, Ace is on magical house arrest and Yuuken’s just a regular guy, so you three will have to stick to paint.”

“Recolor the roses with magic,” Deuce repeated, trying to wrap his head around it.

“Never done that before, can’t say it sounds easy.”

“Same here,” [Name] added.

“Chill, it’ll be fine! You got this! Just try to do it before I lose my head, okay? Thanks!” And with that, Cater dashed off, leaving the first years in a whirlwind of confusion.

Taglist✨: @itwaszzmoon , @brights-place

Sorry for the short chapter😓 I’ll post some time tomorrow!! Thank you for reading💚

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[hazelfoureyes]

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?” 

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice. 

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder. 

“Follow me little one.”  The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient. 

Fun. 

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try. 

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear. 

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you. 

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head. 

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general? 

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation. 

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had. 

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night. 

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do. 

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before? 

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities. 

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail. 

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement. 

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off.  A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone. 

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out. 

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end. 

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground. 

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you. 

“Oh dear. Trouble already?” 

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away. 

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest. 

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing. 

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened. 

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable. 

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked. 

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold. 

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking. 

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply. 

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation 

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words. 

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap. 

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open. 

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem. 

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip. 

A doe. 

The only doe he knew of in the hotel. 

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

 ....always and forever, 

....in yesterday. 

....rusty cage 

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations 

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him. 

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology. 

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck. 

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar. 

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him. 

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless. 

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern. 

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face. 

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you. 

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip. 

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

 Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe.  His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest. 

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.” 

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him. 

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d  retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you. 

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up. 

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus. 

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you. 

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place. 

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body. 

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were …  inside you. 

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass. 

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole. 

 Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience. 

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance. 

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment. 

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you. 

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?” 

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.” 

With a blink, his eyes were black.  His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start. 

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct. 

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body. 

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly. 

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach. 

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you. 

Not a new sensation, but a different one. 

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open. 

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not. 

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability. 

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.” 

 Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been. 

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising. 

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck. 

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties. 

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord. 

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.” 

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him. 

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core. 

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected. 

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not.  You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth. 

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression. 

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet. 

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late. 

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together. 

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about. 

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used. 

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble. 

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[icarusredwings]

Sheets.

Thinking about the way Logan always panics and tries to hide or profusely apologizes when he accidently rips a bedsheet.

The first time he's caught sleeping in Wade's bed is when he takes a nap in the middle of the day, catching up on rest from all those years not being able to sleep. The smell of Wade's pillow and Althea's blanket is enough comfort to streatch out and snore a bit.

Well, The moment he smells Wade and hears him open the door, He's caught with the small blanket over him while curled up, growling, claws in the bed and even kicking his foot at times.

Wade only gets a split second of it before suddenly Logan is standing upright, hackles raised and snarling until he assesses the situation. Not even a moments notice later, his face turns from a big scary man to a terrified little puppy who looks like he made a mess and was extremely guilty of it.

His eyes soften, his stance changes. His head lowers and he's carefully taking the sheet off.

"I-ill fix it! Promise! I just-"

But Wade only shakes his head, smiling as he gently puts a hand over Logan's. "Hey, it's okay. We'll fix it. No one will know." He says, taking the sheet from him and putting it into a scrap fabric pile in the closet, only to bring out a new sheet with a grin. "You really think this is the first time this poor bed has been stabbed?"

It makes him blink. Why wasn't he scolding him? Why wasn't he telling him to be more careful? Why did.. it feel so familiar?

His hair on the back of his neck and arms was rasied, panting heavily and gritting his teeth, holding his hands to his head on the edge of the bunk bed.

"Psst. What are ya doing, Howlett?"

Growling at man above him, He snaps. "None of your business!" His fangs are still tightly grit together, beginning to ashamingly cover the scratches in his sheet with the blankets.

Leaning his head over the side, Wilson was always popping down, being nosey, and to talk his ear off after nights out. "Ooh... Don't worry!" He whispers, climbing down and beginning to rummage silently through his sack.

"What are you doigng!?"

Pulling a rolled up piece of cloth, he shoved it into his chest, smiling so wide that his teeth shown in the dark. "Here!" He whispered.

"What is it?"

"It's my extra sheet. Stole it from big guy over there. Take it." He asks, so sincere and so.. stupid.. then again Wade got here because he came from general and kept getting picked up by other, higher people of service.

Logan and Vic were here because of their mutations. Wade was here just cause he was damn good at what he did... it meant he had that "brother in arms" mindset. They were brought together as a platoon, not all for themselves like this shit show of a team.

Logan grunts, sneering at him. "Are you making fun of me?!"

"What? No. So you don't get in trouble with Mr. Stinky pants over there. Gimme yours, Ill take the fall."

"...Why..?" Why would he want to get introuble for him? That was just plain stupid. But.. he shakes his head. This only proved what Victor said wrong. So wrong. That humans were always mean to them and always would be. Wade wasn't a mutant and he still (as annoying as he was) was far too kind to him then what he deserved.

"Cause? What kind of question is that? Now come on, No one will ever know." He whispers, Helping Logan strip the bed and put a new sheet on it. A sheet that got Wade cut from supper that next night.

He had found him sitting by the fire, Staring into it in a way that made his eyes dance with the reflection. ".....here."

Back then, Logan had given him his apple, roughly ruffled up his head and then disappeared before he could even try to say thank you or start yapping about how 'that niceness is hidden under all that fur' or that he was 'Just a big softy afterall'

"Logan? You okay?"

He blinks a few times, looking up at him with wet eyes. "....I'm sorry.."

"Heh, yeah, I know you've said it 6 times already. Now come on. Al's making us apple pie!"

Watching him leave, Logan stares at the freshly made bed again and decided he liked this universe better already..

Maybe he would stay. Here. With Wade, the ugly mutt, and the personification of the grinch.

He would have a little family. And as many sheets as he needed.

[legobiwan]

We need to talk about this. And I'm going to start right off with a contentious claim:

Ford was willing to gamble the fate of his entire dimension to feed his ego and insecurities and Bill had him pegged from Square One.

This sounds like a harsh statement. It kind of is. When we first meet Ford in the show, all we end up learning from him is that restarting the Portal was dangerous and could (and did) create a rift that would open the door for Bill and his gang to end the world. And Ford pins this entirely on Stanley, excoriating him for not listening to his warnings in the journals and doing whatever he wanted, like a set of monkeys flinging shit at walls until he happened to get it correct.

Ford is a highly unreliable narrator. After all, as Stan rightfully said, who built the portal in the first place?

But we need to go deeper.

In Journal 3, Ford speaks to the necessity of hiding his journals, which he - to be quite honest - does a crappy job of. Why keep two out of the three journals in Gravity Falls, a mere hair's breath from the actual Portal, which for some mysterious reason, Ford has declined to - you know - actually destroy? Why bury the Journals near an elementary school with children - children who tend to be curious creatures and can and will find a way to discover what they shouldn't? Why call on your estranged brother who you claim to despise as an absolute last resort? Ford's narrative, if you really start to analyze it, makes zero sense. And it makes zero sense because it's an edifice, a personal mythology meant to be a bulwark against the horrible truth of Ford's motivations.

"I've stared at the fire, journals in hand, for hours. I just can't do it. The knowledge in here could be a gift to mankind, the portal's potential limitless. Am I really going to destroy it all just out of spite? No, I won't give HIM the satisfaction. Instead of destroying my work, I'll find a way to DESTROY BILL INSTEAD. If Cipher has a weakness, I'll find it. I'll outsmart the devil yet! He may be a god, but I am a scientist."

Ford could have ended this thirty years ago if his ego hadn't gotten in the way. All he had to do was burn the journals and destroy the portal, just like every other human Bill tried to con over the years. How much did Ford actually care about the end of the world as much as he cared about Bill's betrayal and losing his earth-shattering (quite literally) research?

He didn't. And given this, is it a surprise that Bill, when he finally was able to breach dimensions and start Weirdmaggedon, still placed bets that Ford would join him in the end? The man who said, "Fuck the universe, I need everyone to know I was right."

This isn't about the possible apocalypse. Ford doesn't make one, single mention of that here, doesn't seem to give one fuck if the world burns, as long as he can prove himself to be better than Bill and better than everyone who doubted him for all his life.

And this is why, I am certain, that when Bill perused Ford's possible futures, a large majority ended up with Ford turning to the dark side, as it were.

There's a reason Ford pulled these journal pages. They don't fit his self-constructed narrative of the heroic martyr who wants to save the world. Ford edits his own story again and again, pushing everyone away so they won't see just how insecure and absolutely desperate for validation he is.

Sound like someone we know? Maybe a yellow triangle who literally outlines the steps to denial in his teenage angst journal?

Bill, in essence, promised Ford the universe. Yes, literally, but also the universe in terms of what Ford always wanted - recognition and revenge. Ford, by not destroying the Portal or his journals, didn't 100% reject this proposal, even if that equivocation was subconscious. It's why - I think - Bill feels Ford's just put him "on read" after he fell through the Portal (according to Alex Hirsch).

Ford's going to have to come to terms with this. Maybe he did during his time in the Portal. We have no idea how much Ford did or didn't mellow while being stuck on the other side of the universe, although we do know a) he still holds a massive grudge against his brother and b) Bill is still able to play him like a lyre when he asks about the equation to pop the bubble around Gravity Falls. (And I do not for one second believe that Ford was trying to buy time when he admits that "Of course, a simple equation could collapse the barrier," when Bill questions him about it. Ford needs to prove that he knows the answer, that he figured it out, that he's a scientist and outsmarted a god. Again, if the kids and Stan hadn't come to Ford's rescue, it's very hard to say where Ford would have landed in the end).

The thing is, there's a part of Ford that realizes he's being an ass, that he needs someone. We see this with Bill, obviously, with Fiddleford in the ways Ford runs so incredibly hot and cold with the man (I need you, no I don't need you) - with Stan, who is a last resort but the only person Ford trusts enough to summon to Oregon. Because Ford didn't need Stan to destroy the journals or the portal - but he needed someone, maybe he needed a dollar-store Bill in his life, maybe he just needed someone to reach out like that. Ford fucks it up, wildly, as he can't let his ego go and allow Stan (who is being extremely practical, if bitter) to burn the journals like Ford should have weeks previous.

And well, we all know how that turned out.

What I'm curious about - and what I think needs to be covered more in fandom - is how Ford deals with all of this post-Weirdmaggedon. He's obviously in contrition mode at this point, swinging wildly to this penitent, self-abusing figure who will claim fault for the tiniest infraction.

That's not going to last him long. The type of change and self-reflection Ford needs is not going to come overnight. At some point, his uglier tendencies are going to rear their head on the Stan O'War and Stan is going to have to weather the blowback (or just throw his brother overboard). One might say Ford himself needs a little time the Theraprism, as he nearly consigned his own reality to damnation just like Bill did.

I love Ford. I adore Ford. He is so, so, so complicated. But ohhh boi, Fordsy, do you have issues with a Capital "I".

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Tears to Shed

This is based on Tears to Shed from the Corpse Bride. Where Alastor accidentally marries the reader. The only problem is Alastor doesn't want to marry anyone. TW: Angst, Hurt, Sorrow, Illusions to Suicide but you can't die in hell unless it's angelic steel; Alastor is well Alastor, Mimzy is Alastors partner in this. <I am open to writing a part 2 if yall like this> @willowaudreykeyes helped me edit!

The day Alastor slipped the ring onto your finger seemed to shake the whole world with the weight of fated lovers. He was a striking figure, with caramel skin glinting beneath the sun, eyes alight, and a vigorous appetite for power and immortality. But beneath the surface, a shadow lingered: his heart was not free but tied to Mimzy, that star of the city, resplendent with the possibilities of influence and status among humans.

But in that very moment, as your eyes caught the gleam of the ring, you could almost think he chose you. You were, after all, wearing his ring, and he had said those vows with such passion as if some unseen force bound your destinies. 

But then time unraveled, and the truth trickled in like a cold, silent mist: Alastor wanted neither you nor Mimzy. He wanted to be free and live a life unencumbered by chains called commitment. He wanted power and to be feared above all others in his realm.

You had been heartbroken, perched up on the roof of a falling building in Hell, looking out at the fire spreading to the horizon. Never a fan of red and black, you'd always enjoyed blue and silver. The licks of flames danced like lost souls, taunting your self-worth.

You did, indeed, feel the gravity of your life in that moment-the corpse bride, once a loving beauty, now a demon cloaked by yearning and solitude: Alastor had brought one spark of hope into your heart only to cast it down into the dark. The pain of betrayal and the weight of your new existence as a demon were crushing you, threatening to consume the last remnants of your humanity.

You remembered that cold, starless night when he slid the ring onto your finger. For the beat of a moment, you were complete, while today, you are the broken pieces of what you once were: a beautiful woman full of life and a longing to be loved. But now, the truth stared you in the face: he was trapped, and you were the specter haunting his every step, it would appear.

You'd found Alastor begging for Mimzy's help only hours before. The scene had played like an echo in your mind, a foreign sound that twisted your insides. You'd seen it in his eyes, heard it in the shake of his voice. Beneath the bluster of a power-hungry fool, he was just a man desperate to be free of the tethers of a promise he had never wanted to make. And you, you were the one who had been used as a pawn in their twisted game of power and love.

As the reality fell in your heart like ashes, your friends emerged from the shadows: Nero, the imp, and Arianna, the succubus. Their loyalty to you puts a soothing wave over your spirit of fire and ice. They pressed themselves against your sides, the heat from their bodies contrasting with the chill of your skin and the despair that began to wrap around you as time passed.

They stared at the scene before you, knowing this was their doing. Had they not encouraged you to keep Alastor in your life, to guide and mentor you in a fantasy of mortals and demons in love, you wouldn't be like this on the brink of unleashing your powers on all of Hell once again, just as you had on the day you had died.

"What does that wispy little brat have that you don't have double?" Nero's voice was soft yet managed to cut through the fog in your brain. The gentle touch of his hand to yours was akin to a lifeline for a moment.

Arianna leaned in, her eyes aglow with wild affection. "She can't hold a candle to the beauty of your smile!" she said, in words that were an attempt at stitching the pieces of your heart together.

"Yeah, how about a pulse?" You snorted, the venom of bitterness thick in your voice as you stared at the fiery scene below your chosen hideout. You just felt like an antique compared with the sweet Mimzy.

"Overrated by a mile!" Nero chipped in, his voice light yet grave, as he sat by your side with a mutual understanding of the pain you are experiencing.

"Overfed!" Arianna cut in with a snort, her tail flicking in outrage.

"Overblown!" Nero exclaimed, with echoes of laughter resounding around the darkening space. Then he turned to Arianna, who nodded with full vigor. For a moment, their eyes shone with playfulness as they looked at you, hope alighting in their pupils.

"If he only knew the you that we know," they chorused in unison, gripping your hands tight. Their faces held pride with a touch of pain, but they held steady on one thing: their unity in support of you.

Arianna played with the ring on your left hand, smirking with mischief and love. "And the little silly creature isn't wearing his ring!"

Nero playfully elbowed you. "And she doesn't play piano!"

"Or dance or sing! No, she doesn't compare!" they chortled, their voices rising like some haunting melody.

But the shadows of doubt clung to you like a second skin. "But she still breathes air," you muttered; the weight of your reality fell again.

"Who cares?" they chorused, still enthusiastic, though you knew they were growing tired of your self-doubt.

"Unimportant!" Nero insisted, scrambling onto your shoulder, his small frame reassuring.

“Overblown!" Arianna echoed with whimsical reassurance, wrapping her tail gently around your arm.

"If only he could see how special you can be. If only he knew you that we know," they said in one accord, a mantra to which you were no longer sure you believed.

You stood, peeling yourself gently from the tangle of friends. Your undead eyes threatened to spill over with tears as you swayed on the precipice of despair, humming a mournful tune. Closer to the edge of the building you sat atop, the seductive allure of the fall whispered promises of nothing, for you could not die here.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain. If you cut me with a knife, it's still the same." You flourish the blade hidden in your garter, the cold steel calling to your mind your immortality. The use of it on Alastor flashed across your mind a spark of the most dangerous kind. You chase the thought away, turning back to your lament. The struggle between your desire for revenge and your lingering love for Alastor was tearing you apart, threatening to push you over the edge of sanity.

"And I know her heart is beating, and I know that I am dead. Yet the pain here that I feel, please try and tell me it's not real." You turned your gaze to your friends, their faces dimly lit by the firey light of hell, then fell back from the rooftop, landing softly within a coffin overflowing with blue and silver roses, the delicate petals wrapping you in a sorrow growing only larger by the minute.

"And yet, it would seem I still have a tear to shed." Your eyes, no longer shining bright, now blazed with the bitter salt of lost love, lost on the one with whom you had believed you shared. Yet time was a thief and saved little space for sorrow. Nero and Arianna were already down to your level, their eyes afire with determination in jarring contrast with the despair flooding your heart.

Nero was first to huddle beside you, his face lined with concern and encouragement. "The only redeeming feature of that little creature is that she's alive!"

Arianna joined him, her cheeks flushed from the hurried descent. "Yeah, it's overrated!" she chimed in, light in tone but weighted with the depth of unsaid meaning.

Nero nodded vigorously, nudging you gently as he gestured to the world beyond. "Yeah, even overblown!"

Arianna smirked, crossing her arms in a very defiant pose, even going so far as to tilt her chin upward in some kind of dare for you to say otherwise. "Everybody knows that’s just a temporary state, which is cured very quickly when we meet our fate!"

Nero's grin widened as he helped you sit up, your surroundings—a darkened alleyway—looming on like some sort of forgotten lover's heart. "Who cares?

Arianna wrapped her arm around your waist, the touch grounding and warm. "Unimportant!" she insisted, dismissing the weight of your sorrow with a wave of her hand.

Nero tugged your good hand with newly formed determination, pulling you toward the busy streets, back into the folds of society. "Overrated!"

Arianna toyed with your hair before flashing a mischievous wink over the mask of worried tension she knew was building the more they danced around your feelings. "Overblown!"

The pair sparkled brightly as they laughed-a stark difference amidst the cowering crowds shrinking away from you, the infamous Corpse Bride, the dainty specter who wielded more souls than damn near Lucifer himself.

"If only he could see how special you could be, if only he knew you, that we know!" Their words of encouragement merely cut through your heart like daggers.

You merely shook your head, a deepening frown as the shadows danced in your eyes, before pulling away and meandering to drift across the streets. A melancholy tune tumbled from your lips as those who'd dare to follow quickly began to wither into roses of silver and blue, scattered remnants of what once was. As you approached the next street, your lament started again, an echoing whisper.

"If I touch a burning candle, I can feel no pain; in the ice or in the sun, it's all the same." You breezed by a café with candles on its tables casting their golden light into the night air, and without even batting an eyelash, you blew them out, embracing the darkness like an old friend.

Your eyes closed, knowing, sans sight, that you were the most significant threat this Hellscape had ever known. Your heart clutched, and your sorrow blossomed into a dark storm that sent those who knew your power scurrying back into the shadows, fear etched upon their faces.

"Yet I feel my heart is aching; though it doesn't beat, it's breaking, and the pain here that I feel, please, try and tell me it's not real." As your eyes fluttered open, the street transformed before you: what once was vibrant red and black now lay cloaked in shades of blue and silver- your wailing, weaving a tapestry of despair, draped over the once bustling scenery.

"I know that I'm dead, yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed." Your voice was barely heard, and there was a broken murmur as you made your way to your house. The chill of the stone outside was like the weight of your grief. Climbing the stairs with sluggish motions, you sat at your piano bench and stared onto the keys, the swell of your sorrow deep.

Nero and Arianna watched you, their faces heavy with what was not said, too much pain entering them as it had the rest of hell when you started your lament. They knew all too well that you only called upon your full banshee powers when the weight of despair bore too much, even that they could not fix it.

You laid your fingers against the keys, and the weight of silence fell. You pressed a key, and the note sang out to resound as one deep ache in your soul, for Alastor would go back to the world of the living, leave you for another, and leave you a shadow.

The sob, so fragile yet mighty, ripped itself free from your lips and unleashed a storm into the very pits of hell. Your wail pierced the night, a chorus of anguish, seeing as you were Y/N, the Corpse Bride, or better yet, a banshee of ill fate, rivaling the voice of Lilith herself.

The roses that danced around your abode shook with solemn trembles at the harmonization of keys to a requiem of lost love. And you, still lost between the planes of life and death, celebrated being the Harbinger of Sorrow.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

hey girly! Idk if your requests are open but we neeeeeed something for bucky from mota. maybe something like enemies to lovers with a war nurse? thxxxx

A Second Chance

Thank you so much for your request anon. I’m so sorry it took so long. I feel that I may not have the skill set to write John Egan as well as other writers but I’m hoping that I can do him justice. Also two posts this weekend because why not.

John Egan was insufferable. Y/n had decided that from the moment she’d first met him, with his cocky smile, his stupid moustache, his bright eyes and… no he was just insufferable. She’d never met a man so full of himself that he gave his best friend the same nickname, and yet Gale Cleven seemed like the sweetest man on earth.

“You’re staring again,” Rosie chuckled, looking up from his battered book ‘Of Mice and Men’ with a cheeky smile.

“Yes with utter disgust, I mean look at him,” Y/n pointed, watching as Rosie glanced over at the Major who was currently leaning against the bar, flirting with the poor barmaid who seemed besotted with him. “He’d flirt with anything that moved.” 

“Including you apparently,” Rosie chuckled, “Just admit that you aren’t a tiny bit jealous. I just want to hear you admit it.”

Y/n glared daggers at the pilot who was using his book to shield his smiling face. She lurched forward trying to smack him but he shoved the book at her.

“No, no, not the moustache again,” he shielded his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he glared at her. She may have accidentally pulled his moustache once when they were arguing about the same Major and Rosie’s moustache had taken the hit.

“You know that was an accident.”

“Yes, but it’s never grown the same since,” he protested, stroking his facial hair thoughtfully. “You’re always moaning about Major Egan's moustache, I thought mine was a goner.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, slouching in her chair. She wondered if she should tell Rosie the real reason why she held such a grudge towards John Egan. That, however, would involve her confessing that she was madly in love with John.

Rosie’s eyes remained trained on his book and Y/n fought the urge to interrupt him again. Instead, she remained silent, thinking back to that night in June when the air in London had been close and hot, sticking to the sweat on her skin, the pale evening light casting shadows over the hotel room, the white sheets soft and comfortable, his embrace loving, his words kind and… all completely false.

Y/n hadn’t believed in love at first sight but seeing John Egan in his uniform, smirking at her across the crowded pub, something inside her had changed. He’d been effortlessly charming and she was eating out of his palm before the night was through.

John Egan had promised to visit her, promised he’d write, but several months passed and no letters came Y/n gave up, putting John behind her. That was until she had to report to Thorpe Abbott RAF base and ran into a particular Major.

John, however, seemed oblivious to their previous encounter, barely sending her a smile as he strolled passed with several other pilots by his side. From that day forward Y/n held a grudge against John Egan.

“Here we go…” Rosie mumbled under his breath, but before Y/n could ask what he meant a low hum came from behind her.

“Evening Rosie, Y/n,” John nodded to both of them, Gale Cleven by his side doing the same.

“Majors,” Rosie greeted them, placing his book down on the table.

“Major Cleven,” Y/n greeted Gale, her eyes avoiding the other Major. Gale glanced quizzically between the pair, before looking to Rosie for answers, but he only shrugged.

“Have I done something to offend you, Darling?” John smirked at her, leaning across the table, his moustache twitching at the corners. He had the same cocky air about him that he always wore but the added nickname just added fuel to the fire that was already burning.

Y/n snorted, “Do not think your presence has such an effect on me, Major. I’m afraid not every woman falls at your feet.”

Gale let a low whistle slip from his lips, but John just grinned, “Alright, I see someone’s a little jealous, didn’t realise I had an admirer.”

Y/n stood swiftly from her chair, rounding the table and jabbing her finger into John’s chest, “I am not jealous and why would I be? Why would I lower my standards to such an arrogant, self-centered man.” She removed her finger from his chest, turning on her heels and exiting the pub as fast as her legs would allow her.

Gale looked between Rosie and John, “Will someone please explain what just happened?”

Rosie shrugged, picking up his book and fumbling through the pages until he found his spot. John chuckled, “I think I may have offended her in some way, though I know not how.”

“You really think you offended her, huh?” Gale replied sarcastically, avoiding his friend's light shove with an amused laugh.

John truly did wonder what he’d done so wrong to offend her. He’d only known her a few months when she turned up on base dressed in her dress blues declaring she was newly assigned to Thorpe Abbott infirmary. He greeted her with a smile and she glared at him in response. From that day forward it had been an all-out war between the two of them.

Y/n had just finished tidying up the examination room when there was a light tap at the door, she called out ‘enter’, her back still turned to whoever it was.

“This is quite a nice place you’ve got here, Darling,” John declared, leaning against the doorframe, smiling devilishly.

Y/n sighed, instantly on the defensive, “What do you want, Major,” she emphasised his rank disdainfully, rolling her eyes as she continued to pack up the crate of dressings.

John hummed behind her, moving around the room until he was in front of her once more, “So…” he paused, craning his neck to try and catch her eye. “How are you finding life on base?”

That’s it, John, a nice simple question. She can’t get too offended by that, right?

Y/n all but tutted, shaking her head, “Life would be just fine, except a certain Major keeps ruining my day.” She shoved passed him, carrying the crate out of the room and down the corridor, her heels clicking against the tiled floor followed by a larger heavier footfall.

“Hey Darling, wait up. I hadn’t finished talking to you,” John protested, moving swiftly in front of her and stopping her movements.

“What?” She snapped this time, her patience wearing thin and the long list of jobs she had still playing on her mind.

John sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, “I just want to know what I did. I’ve barely said two words to you since you got here and somehow I’ve offended you. Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry, okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so exasperated but he wasn’t sure what more he could say.

Y/n watched him, her face faltering ever so slightly before the stoic expression returned. “The fact that you don’t remember makes all of this worse. I didn’t realise our night was so awful you pushed it from your mind. So much for ‘I’ll keep in touch’,” she spat, pushing the crate into him and moving on passed without a backward glance. She’d said her piece, he could do with that what he will.

John sat on the wing of Mugwump, his legs swinging in mid-air as he took a long swig from his hit flask. His mind still reeling from the afternoon's events as the guilt ate away at him.

He’d fished the letter out from his belongings, tracing over the return address. He should have realised her name was familiar, but then again he should have written her back.

John was still trying to piece together how he hadn’t realised it was her, but with the amount they’d both consumed he was surprised Y/n even remembered him. That still didn’t help clear his conscience.

“Bucky, you up there,” Gale called, glancing around the plane until he noticed the pair of legs hanging from the wing. “What are you doing?”

“I messed up Gale,” John mumbled, taking another drink. He was always impressed by how much whiskey his hot flask could hold and he was starting to feel a nice warm sensation as it flowed around his body.

“What have you done?” Gale asked, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the wing beside John. He offered Gale his hit flask but the other pilot shook his head, waiting for his friend’s explanation.

“Do you remember that night I had in London a few months ago? When I said I met this amazing woman and we had a wonderful night together, she wanted me to write to her and she wrote me a letter and I never replied,” John rambled, his tongue becoming looser as the alcohol flowed. “Well, that’s Y/n, the nurse on base. It’s the same woman, Gale.”

Gale nodded, processing his friend's confession, “Well at least now we know why she’s so angry at you all the time, you were a total ass.”

John rolled his eyes glaring at Gale, “Thanks Buck, that’s really helpful.” Groaning, John pushed himself up, balancing precariously on Mugwump’s wing. “I’ve gotta make it up to her, Buck. Women like grand gestures, don't they?”

Buck shuffled further away from the edge of the wing before standing, grasping his friend's hands, “I don’t think she wants a grand gesture, Bucky. I think she just wants you to apologise.”

Passing back and forth down the infirmary corridor, John found himself fighting the urge to make a run for it. He could easily head down the corridor and back out onto the hardstand before anyone noticed he was there in the first place.

Movement from within the infirmary caught his eye. He watched curiously as Y/n moved along the beds, sitting down beside a wounded airman, his head clad in bandages, covering the burns he’d sustained on the last mission. She was speaking quietly to him, too quietly for John to hear, but he saw the young man instantly relax in her presence. She was a good nurse and John had taken her kindness for granted. He had to make things right.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door, waiting for the mumbled reply, before pushing it open. Y/n was smoothing down some fresh bedding, tucking the sheets tightly into the bed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he interrupted, watching as her movements still and her whole body stiffened. He hated that he had this effect on her.

“What can I do for you, Major?” Her voice was plain, emotionless and her eyes seemed hollow, as though she stared right through him.

John felt his palms sweating as he spoke, “I need to talk to you, to apologise for my behaviour.” Y/n seemed uninterested in what he had to say, continuing with the task at hand, but John wasn’t about to give up on her again.

“My behaviour has been unacceptable and I know that I can probably never make it up to you but I want to try. I was not in my best form the night that we met, I was drunk and uncaring and I’m sorry I never wrote back. I intended to but I just never did, and I have no excuse, I’m just sorry I never did. You’re a great girl and any man would be lucky to have you write to them, I only wish that I hadn’t messed things up.”

John had never outed his heart out before, he’d never even revealed this kind of vulnerability to Gale, so he was a little shocked. Had he said too much? Would she hate him even more now?

Y/n had stopped her movements, still bent over the bed, her hand clutching the sheet. John watched her shoulders sag, and a long, drawn-out sigh slipped from her lips.

“It’s okay, John,” she murmured, defeat evident in her appearance. “I knew the kind of man you were when we met, I was just excited that a man such as yourself wanted to give someone like me any kind of attention.

She stood up, a few tears trickling down her cheeks, “You know the worst thing was I really did think you’d write back. That’s what hurt the most. Then when I got my orders to move to Thorpe Abbott I thought maybe we had a chance, but you didn’t even recognise me and I knew I never stood a chance.”

The pair stood in silence, the clock on the wall ticking louder than ever as time passed. John spoke up first, unable to stand the tension any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, for all of it. I understand now why you hate me so much, and I wouldn’t blame you. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Any way at all?”

Y/n’s forehead creased as she thought, her nose wrinkling as it had the same night they’d met when he’d asked her about her family. He could see it now, all the small details that he’d appreciated when he met her, if only he’d taken the time to study her when she came to base he’d have known.

Y/n shook her head, “What’s done is done. Let’s just move on and forget about it all.” She turned away, returning to the bed she’d been making, but John grabbed her arm.

“I don’t want to forget it, any of it. That night with you was one of the best nights of my life. I was free from judgment when I was with you. You never once called me Major or treated me like I was better than you, you treated me like a normal person,” John admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “And I’d really like another shot if you’d let me.”

“Alright,” Y/n replied, “But if you break my heart again, Major then I won’t be so forgiving.”

John chuckled, saluting her, “Anything you say, Ma’am.”

Y/n rolled her eyes turning back to her job, but John spun her back around to face him, “I have some leave coming up to go to London. What do you say to come with me?”

Y/n smiled softly, “I’d love to, but I don’t know whether I can get the leave.”

“All sorted, it’s already been approved.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “Well that’s pretty cocky of you, Major. What were you planning on doing if I said no?”

John grinned, “I would have just asked Buck to come with me, although he’s not nearly as beautiful and I don’t think I’d want to share a bed with him, he snores you know.”

Y/n laughed, moving her arms so they rested behind his neck, fumbling with the soft hair at the base of his neck. “Alright Major, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

John grinned, cupping her cheek softly in his palm, he pressed his lips down to her, his moustache tickling her lips but that was the least of her concerns. His hands moved to her hips, resting firmly and pulling her closer. He smiled into the kiss, it felt so right, bringing back all the memories from London all those months ago. He wished he’d written her back now, he could have been kissing her all this time, but at least he could make up for lost time now and he intended to.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @blueberry-ovaries

[fantasy-frog]

To anybody who might see this, July in the states is disability pride month. As someone who’s past decade plus has been a journey towards understanding, accepting, and advocating for my psychological and physical disabilities and my whole life, aiding disabled family members, I want make it known that: the way many of us feel you can help us the most, is not by “pretending” we’re abled, like we’re just like everyone else, because we’re *not*

When disabilities are ignored, or treated as just “uniquely abled”, it falls on the disabled to maintain abled people’s comfort; to make our disabilities small, to not advocate for equity and the bettering of our lives in a supposedly equal society.

Equality is not equity.

Differences must be acknowledged, understood, and worked around *by abled people* for any true progress to be made.

Most people think this is government related. I know abled people as individuals can’t change that there’s little to no wheel chair access in their bustling city, that the sidewalks are cracked and filled with lips. An abled person can’t make public schools treat autistic kids with humanity, or children with memory-relates disabilities able to always have notes for their exams. They can’t make the employers stop firing us, or the government give us our right to marriage when living under SSI.

What I’m asking for is Empathy. True empathy. The kind that informs your beliefs, and actions. Talk to disabled people. Get to know them. I promise you, you have a disabled person in your family or social circle. Really be inquisitive about their experiences, struggles, and frustrations.

Acknowledge your privilege. Your ease of access to the world. Really sit in it. Absorb it. Your empathy will only grow. And when enough abled people do even just this, the world for us becomes less hostile. It becomes more livable. We become no longer burdens, but cherished by our communities, our families and friends. And trust me, even though the world is not built for me, and I have to consistently jump through 10,000 hoops to achieve even the smallest of victories for an abled person, and my body hurts and breaks down, so I get in a chair on wheels, or get out my cane, or put on my noise cancelling headphones, and just come across obstacle after obstacle -

The majority of the pain comes from the stares. The glances. The questioning. The points when you see the patience leave the eyes of the one who you thought loved you unconditionally, and you remember your place in our collective culture. And fuck man. You recall how workable all the bureaucracy and hurdles felt, how manageable it was to push forward (it’s what you always do) … before you were reminded of where you sit on the totem poll, and how conditional worth is in our society.

Disabled people are worthy. We are valuable. But we need you to believe it, or nothing will ever change.

[sylix-royalty]

I’m getting back into writing, so have a Hotch/Reid snippet!

can… can i have a hug? please?

And a little bit of

oh, sweetheart- come here.

With a dash of

how long has it been since someone hugged you?

Type: Angsty Fluff

Warnings: Kinda just sad, brief mention of drugs

Spencer was very obviously the most touch starved of the group. It wasn’t to no fault of his, not really. It was clear he didn’t prefer physical contact most of the time, but Aaron wasn’t stupid. Aaron knew that despite Spencer’s sensory issues and mild germaphobic tendencies, he really just wanted to be hugged sometimes.

It was more obvious after some cases, when his arms wrapped around himself as he sat alone on the back of the plane, curled up as staring out of the window rather than reading whatever book he’d already read 7 or 8 times that week. It was only Wednesday after all.

It was less obvious after others, the itch of his hands as he read, how they’d twitch before he’d read a page. Aaron noticed, but he wasn’t sure that the others did, too careful of Spencer sensory. And Spencer clearly didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire of his own mind by his need of physical contact. But, Aaron wasn’t stupid. He was a profiler for a reason. But he wasn’t just going to jump down Spencer’s throat like that, putting him on the spot would be unhelpful and most likely backfire.

So, Aaron watched more intentionally. Trying to give an obvious sign to Spencer that he was here for him, should Spencer need him. It took a while, longer than Aaron liked to admit, but finally Spencer came into his office after hours.

The case had been a bad one. Having to deal with not only children, but Spencer was taken as a hostage and belittled so bad that Aaron was on the verge of shooting the man just to make him shut the hell up for good. Of course he couldn’t, that would risk his job, and more importantly Spencer’s life, but the thought definitely crossed his mind.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Spencer asked softly, and Aaron nodded slowly.

“Stay as long as you need,” he said gently, trying not to use that boss tone he knew he had. Spencer nodded, noting the attempt, and sat on the couch, curled up with his arms around himself once again, staring at the wall.

Aaron worked in silence, not going to push or pry answers out of the younger. He knew Spencer was struggling, and he had a terrible reputation when it came to asking for help. But Aaron hoped he was slowly working through that.

“You don’t believe him, do you?” Spencer whispered, finally. “You don’t… you don’t see me as a… drugged up, ratty—“

“No, Spencer,” Aaron cut him off, not allowing Spencer to repeat the words of the UnSub. “I don’t see you like that. No one does.”

“I do,” Spencer whispered, “I feel like that, sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if everything’s worth it.”

“It’s all worth it,” Aaron whispered.

“You would say that,” Spencer whispered, and Aaron set his pen down.

“Meaning?” Aaron asked without trying to sound offended or offput.

“Meaning you see me,” Spencer explained. “You see the man I’m trying to be. You… you understand… who I am in a way that most other’s can’t.”

“I’m perceptive,” Aaron reasoned.

“Yes,” Spencer agreed. “But you also care.”

“This team cares about you,” Aaron reasoned.

“They do,” Spencer nodded. “But they care so much about one thing, something you’ve been… overlooking lately.”

Aaron blinked.

“You’ve been staring at me, after cases. Reading me. I see your eyes. I feel them.”

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, that wasn’t my intention,” Aaron promised.

“No, I know,” Spencer promised. “I just…” he inhaled slowly, his arms falling from where they were wrapped around him. “Can I have… have a hug? Please?”

Aaron exhaled slowly from where he sat, finally hearing the words come from Spencer’s mouth almost made him jump out of his chair. He still moved a bit too quick, but Spencer didn’t seem to mind or care as he quickly got off the couch, hearing Aaron’s gentle “oh sweetheart, come here,” and met Aaron halfway, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, and Aaron’s arms around his waist.

Spencer almost broke right there. But Aaron held him up strong, as per usual. He kept his hold for as long as Spencer needed, or wanted, which was longer than he originally calculated.

“When was the last time someone hugged you?” Aaron whispered into his ear.

“Too long,” Spencer whispered, voice broken and scraggly as he pushed his nose into Aaron’s shoulder.

“Don’t let it ever be that long again,” Aaron whispered.

“I’m here, Spence. I’m right here.”

[hellcatinnc]

How the Men Of Love And Deepspace Would Be On Being Dating Apps

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Warning This includes: SFW(Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, dating apps, smart phone, dating profiles, fluff, boy next door, friends to lovers, romantic

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Yes I know about Caleb but this is for all the fans of his still and how I think he would be in this...

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Zayne

So because he works long hours it leaves him little time for mixers or speed dating however he feels it would be nice to have someone to talk to over dinner. He puts up a profile online and its clear and precise and to the point. It will read something like "Looking For Part Time Companion" Then he would make sure to mention part time because he is married to his career. Yes he would like more than that maybe one day but he is just thinking logical. His idea is lets meet, talk about things, and see where we go from there but he knows she would have to be pretty special to make him think about committing 100% into a relationship.

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Rafayel

His profile would be flashy and look artistic enough to grab any creative persons attention. Anyways not like he would have much in common with someone who couldn't understand how he makes his paints and colors pop in his paintings. He would have a flirty appeal to it even though he has never even been in bed with a woman let alone do anything more than that. However his profile would read something cheesy and romantic to make you feel like you need him in your life even if you really don't. He might even end it with talking bout his love of fish, the fact he has fire magic, and that he would make a great husband to protect, love, cook for, and cherish for the rest of her life, as long as they promise to never leave him. Yes he would have a bit of a baby girl moment and show off how needy and clingy he is but this is what we love about this man anyways.

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Xavier

He will sit and look at his phone and stare for what seems like forever. He has no clue how to tell anyone about himself because he really doesn't much like talking about himself. Someone would have to help him because even though he is much older than he looks he can't be worried with trivial things. He will try but if he can't get it he moves on to the next thing. Anyways worrying about wanderers is more important to him. Even if he does get on there you can expect him to respond messages but he won't be the first to message anyone.

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Caleb

He is the boy next door and he would make sure to make it clear he is that traditional boy next door. He would go out of his way to make sure his profile showed his loyalty, honesty, and how he will go the extra mile for the woman he falls in love with. He would comment on his witty personality and how he wants someone he can be himself with and joke and laugh. He would let you know he is a protector who is looking for a friend to grow into a long lasting relationship with.

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[rottenpumpkin13]

Zack, in the middle of a mission where things are going south fast, and enemy fire is heavy and it really looks like they are losing: “Looks like we need to pull out our big guns!” Zack turns to Kunsel, who looks nervous but also hesitantly accepting of his fate.

“Do we have to? We haven’t tried-”

Zack grabs him by the collar, pulling his helmet off like the pin of a grenade and yeets him in the direction of the enemy forces.

Kunsel’s helmet falls from his head, and it’s like one of those sexy girl reveals in the movies where time seems to slow down, with the hair elegantly cascading down from the helmet in a artistically tussled flow that you just know smells like daises and roses to the other characters on set, and everything has that shimmery, slightly blurry at the edges effect while in reality Kunsel is screaming for his life, trips, stumbles pinwheels his arms and somehow manages to stay on his feet meters away from the enemy troops with a wide eyed, bewildered expression.

Enemy fire instantly halts. They stare at Kunsel. Kunsel stares back. He will kill Zack if this doesn’t work. He will probably kill Zack anyway. “Hi?”

Unnamed nemy soldier in the back: “oh no, he’s hot!”

*based off of my HC that Kunsel keeps his helmet on because he is actually insanely attractive and fit and is very uncomfortable with the attention that gains him in soldier, and worried that PR department will hunt him down if they knew among other things*

Kunsel takes his helmet off once and the following happens:

• Angeal bars him at the entrance, doesn't recognize him, and then goes "YOU HAVE A FACE?" when Kunsel shows him his ID.

• Sephiroth walks by him in the hallway, cranes his neck so hard he runs into a glass door.

• Genesis tries to flirt/ introduce himself/ welcome him to SOLDIER.

• Kunsel puts his helmet back on before he can reach Zack.

Zack: Come on man, I promise I won't be weird about it. Just show me!

Kunsel: Fine. *he takes his helmet off* It's really not that big of a—WHERE DID YOUR CLOTHES GO?

[everlxndd]

THE END • SUNDAY

Summary: #𝗚𝗡! 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗫 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 (𝗛𝗦𝗥) ✧ in which all it takes for life to have meaning is to be thrust into a world of survival and death games (and maybe an attractive rich guy)! (𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗔𝗨) # minimal/no use of [y/n] # graphic depictions of violence

next chapter

PROLOGUE ;

Life had become boring, pointless in a way. It was always sleep, wake up, work yourself half to death, and by the time you got home, there was no longer time for yourself. Sometimes, you would stay up, despite your alarm creeping closer and closer to going off, just so you could have time to do things you enjoyed. The dark bags under your eyes seemed to be testament to this.

“Stupid boss, I hope he dies in a fire or something,” the complaint falls from your lips absentmindedly. You could picture the ugly scowl your boss wore, his accusatory finger pointing at you and the massive cart of produce that he had insisted he had told you to sort out (he definitely didn't… or did you just not listen to him?). His constant nagging about how his employees were a team and that you should take it a lot more seriously than you were.

“Produce… one day, I'll produce the biggest punch to the face that old man has ever seen.”

You turn the tap of the bath off. The weekend was truly an incredible thing, the absence of the threat of tomorrow being one of which you were expected to be somewhere filled your heart with a terrible amount of glee.

The steam emitting from the hot water was inviting; it was a shame you didn't have any bath bombs or rose petals to make it feel all the more special—another thing to add to the shopping list.

The ‘want’ list, anyway.

Moving to Penacony was supposed to be a fresh start. The old, sleepy town you were born and grew up in simply didn't offer the opportunities you wanted, and so moving to a city seemed to be the smartest move.

You were wrong. You were now stuck stacking shelves and taking verbal (and sometimes physical) abuse from vexed customers who seemed to believe those working in retail were some sort of class of sub-humans.

Those thoughts could wait; you had a relaxing bath waiting for you after all!

Sighing in content as you sunk into the water, you felt the tension flow out of your aching muscles—being on your feet for 10 hours five times a week at a minimum was not good for your calves, it seemed.

“I should've become a lawyer or something…” you say wistfully, staring at the ceiling and then at the mold growing in the corner of the room. Another sigh.

“Damn landlord…” you cursed. They had promised they'd figure something out, but that was around five months ago, and still the mold clung to your walls. Can't die from inhaling those spores or something?

It's so quiet... and so nice.

Quiet... quiet?

The distant and constant roar of cars on the road had disappeared, as well as the occasional car horn or ambulance siren.

Squinting your eyes thoughtfully, you got out of the bath, wrapping the towel you had set out previously around your body so you could check your phone.

It doesn't react to you touching the on button, the screen staying black.

That's weird. You thought mold spores only affected people; can they kill phone batteries too? Did you accidentally splash water onto it and damage it? No, that wasn't it; your phone was dry.

Humming in thought, you exited the bathroom and beelined for your room. A cramped but satisfactory space that could hardly fit more than three people—enough for you and yourself, however.

Grabbing the folded sweatshirt and sweatpants you had laid out and putting them on, you walked out of your apartment and into the corridor and then the stairwell.

More silence. Not even the pair of pigeons that had nested in the little nook under the stairs was making a noise.

The soft pat of your shoes connecting with the concrete stairs was all you could hear until you came to the main lobby and out of the front door.

No receptionist drinking her coffee in preparation for her night shift, no security guard with his arms crossed.

As you looked from left to right at the street before you, not one passerby. The cars stood dormant, the streetlights off, not one light in the other apartment windows.

Now that you think of it, you hadn't tried the lights in your apartment since you got home. The remnants of golden hour lit your room when you entered, and you had opted for scented candles during your pleasant (but brief) bath.

A power cut perhaps? World War Three? A prank that everyone in the vicinity was in on but you?

“What the hell,” you couldn't help but utter in confusion. Alone. You hadn't had an actual conversation with someone outside of scanning their groceries in so long; that was alone. But this, this felt different. Almost menacing.

You wondered if the stars looked down at you in pity or were laughing at you and your racing thoughts.

A light caught your eye from your peripherals. A huge arrow, pointing down an alley.

Maybe a serial killer with a huge budget?

Swallowing the lump slowly forming in your throat, you marched towards the direction of which the arrow pointed. What other choice did you really have? Maybe it was smart to just go into your apartment, close the door, close your eyes, and pretend this wasn't happening, but it was.

When did people disappear? As soon as you entered your building? You hadn't seen the receptionist or security guard then either, but you assumed maybe they were on break, or maybe their shift hadn't even started yet.

You shook your head—it didn't matter. What did matter was what was happening now, and what was happening was a large botanical garden coming into view. The dome glass allows light to escape and bounce off of the surroundings.

Light. Power. Then again, the screens of arrows also suggested a power source of some kind.

Speaking of screens, another was on a wall on a building next to the garden.

“GAME THIS WAY”

next chapter

☆ reblogs / hearts are very much appreciated!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ☆

[afkenma]

papered love— kozume.k x g/n reader

A/N: pinch punch first day of the month no returns (started this on 1st of June)!! Hello, I’ve been struggling on who to write about next, but I think I’ll settle for the man of the movie himself, kenma!! Have you watched the movie yet? Hope everyone gets to soon. I’m retracting myself from much dialogue this time and focusing on making a reader feel what kenma’s lover is feeling, if that makes sense. enjoy :)

the only noise filling the peaceful sunset’s air rolling into the room between you and him were the pixelated sound effects of a promising tetris game he focused on clearing, and the whispering shuffles of the cards, papers and books you were allocating around in his room. you could feel your boyfriend’s back lean against your own, as you began stacking his overused notebooks into a translucent, white box. The sighs of defeat and clanking of the console as he restarted a game dissociated into a comforting nothingness that allowed you to drift into no particular thoughts, for there was nothing tugging for your attention.

then, something did. weathered, small notes began spilling out of the crevices of almost every notebook, to which you dazily disregard to your side as waste papers before you noticed the raw amount. interested, your arms clawed at a falling paper from the standard notebook in your arms, and you almost instantly brought it to your eyes to inspect it, muttering the alarmingly-careful handwriting to yourself as you read:

you could feel the body supported behind you tense up in a flinch whilst you slowly read. his head whipped around to face you, hair smacking along his cheeks with the motion. he clearly recognizes it. his stares timidly fall between your puzzled face, the confusion on papers and stationary scattered around you, and the neat assortment of all his intrusive thoughts of you, thoughts he would never be able to stand verbalizing. embarrassment was painted red on his ears as he scrambled to pick the remaining papers before you did, but you unintentionally fueled the fire burning in his cheeks when you hastily scooped them up first and began to, still confused but riddled with curiosity, read the others.

people are supposed to be difficult, so why?

your hair looks put together in that style. i want you to do that more often.

your eyes are easy to love

ill bring more cooking for you next time because i love your smiles when you eat

i saw you walking to school alone today, I’ll come with you

i wish i could do more than just think

you wish i could tell you what i think more often aswell, too.

i love you, too.

an unwavering smile spread across your face as you held your warming cheek with a tender hand, your voice slightly cracking upon the realisatlion that these small, tattered note were addressed to you. kenma nervously sits beside you with a prominent blush as his mind spins at a thousand thoughts per second, and he can’t bring his cat-like eyes to yours. incoherent muttering splatters from his lips as he begins to speak as he looks up at you but he’s interrupted by the cunning, bashful grin you wore. His eyebrows furrow and he irritatedly asks you why your smiling like that.

you laugh, a taunting yet playful giggle that breaks him out of his nervousness, akin to how your laughter always brings peace. he shyly hugs at his knees, eyes widened and slightly crinkled in a small smile as he holds himself, patiently waiting for you to finish. Soon after, you calm down and very carefully straighten the stack, lovesick eyes doting on the words he never brought himself to repeat after his embarrassing cliché confession speech.

turns out he’s thinking about you more than you thought.

[dominiquelucalover]

Playlist request, 79 with Hondo, please

Target | Daniel "Hondo" Harrelson

Summary: There's nowhere else you'd rather be than by Hondo's side, but he struggles to commit to you after his job puts you in danger.

Song: Now or Never - Halsey | Game Link

CW: angst, kidnapping mentioned, injury, trauma, hospitals, medicine.

A/N: I know the song isn't really about this topic, but this is what came to mind for me with Hondo, so yeah.

As you sat in the hospital bed, you tried not to think about how you'd gotten there. The long night you'd endured had finally come to an end. However, the memories were murky at best and vivid at worst. Your head was pounding from the blow you'd taken from your kidnapper, which only helped you keep most of the terror blurred from your memory. Everything else was haunting.

The lights were dimmed, the only real brightness coming from the door, so you kept your eyes closed. You wished you could sleep it off, but everything seemed to keep you awake. If it wasn't the roaring headache that the doctors promised would ease up soon, it was your nurse coming to check on you because they feared you had a concussion or worse. You hated it. You hated everything about this.

Then someone came into the room. You heard their heavy foot falls as they tried to keep them soft and quiet. It almost worked but not well enough. Your face scrunched up and they stopped, allowing you to calm down before they sighed. You knew that sigh well, too.

It was Hondo, the man who had saved you from your captor. He also happened to be your boyfriend.

"I'm sorry I let this happen," he said softly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, catching him off guard. He tensed as your gaze fell on him.

The last time you saw him, he was decked out in full S.W.A.T. gear, holding a gun aimed at your captor. You'd never seen him so angry before, fire in his eyes that was far from the regular determination you were used to. Just seeing him helped you feel better, even though there had been a gun to your head and you'd been hurt quite a bit.

Now he stood in a S.W.A.T. shirt that hugged his body and showed off his muscles. You usually joked that he wore it to attract attention from the ladies, and he'd ask you if it was working, which would make you giggle.

Right now, you couldn't even think about laughing. You were waiting for the drugs that doctors gave you to kick in, hoping it would help your tired body finally rest.

"I didn't know you were awake," Hondo said, looking at you with sad eyes.

You hummed. "You wouldn't have come in here if you knew I was?"

"No, I just- I don't know," he said and came to sit beside you. He pulled the chair closer to your bedside and took your hand gently. He was struggling to see you like this, head bandaged up and weak. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," you spoke lowly. It was all you could really manage. "It's not your fault."

"Sure it is," he said, sounding so sure of himself as he said it. "If it wasn't for me working the case for find Filmore, he wouldn't have targeted you. He knew you that he could get to me through you and I shouldn't have let that happen."

"Hondo," you spoke, but he didn't seem to hear you.

"As soon as I was put on this trail, I should have done more to protect you. I should have-"

"This is all hindsight," you said, speaking a little louder to cut him off. He looked at you, feeling bad for making you do even that. "Besides, if not me, it would have been someone else."

He squeezed your hand. "But it was you."

You stared at him for a long time as silence fell over you two. It was a strange feeling, something about it making your stomach twist up. This was not the sweet silence you'd been all but begging for before, but a harsh, heart-aching one.

"Do not," you warned him. "Do not do this."

"What? What am I not doing?" he asked, trying to deflect.

You shook your head. "Do not end us because of this."

His eyes softened, revealing how hurt and tortured he was. He swallowed hard, trying to build those walls back up but he couldn't. Not so easily around you. Your name slipped from his lips and he sighed. "You're in danger as long as you're with me."

"Danger is everywhere, Hondo," you argued, taking your hand from his so you could sit up. If you were going to have this conversation, you weren't going to have it lying down. He tried to stop you, ease you back into a relaxed position, but you fixed him with a look that made him back off and sit back down. "I love you. Nothing is going to change that, especially not some psycho that had a bone to pick with law enforcement."

"As soon as he knew I was onto him, he took you to send a message," he told you, almost as if you didn't already know that. He was laying out the facts as if he was an attorney trying to prove a case, one against your relationship continuing. "I love you too much to let something like that happen again."

"So the solution is to break up? Give up everything you and I have because on this one incident?" you asked. As you got more upset, your heart monitor sped up in the background, but you didn't care. The pounding in your head got worse and you felt like you could fall over sitting there, but you carried on anyway. "I'm not gonna let that happen, Daniel. I love you too much to let that happen."

He stared at you, at a loss of words. It was only for a moment, a few small seconds, and he tried to speak, but a set of nurses came in to check on you after getting alerted to your vitals.

They came to your side, edging him out of the way to fuss over you. It wasn't a lot, mostly asking you to sit back and relax. They asked if you were okay and you nodded, telling that you were fine. Your primary nurse turned to Hondo and said he needed to leave, that you really needed your rest, and you wanted to protest it, but the other nurse kept you occupied.

He was ushered out of the room before you knew it and then you were alone with the nurses, who were going over your vitals and making notes. They promised to bring you water and a snack to help with your headache, but you didn't care about that.

You wanted Hondo back, but you feared he wouldn't return. You were scared that was the end of everything you'd built with him, that he'd said his peace. That is was done and over with even though it didn't feel that way.

[hiimcanadia]

Officially, The Revenge is a little coffee shop/ bookstore just off the main street downtown. Ask anybody in the queer community, though, and they'll tell you it's one of the safest third spaces in the entire city. It's a place where people are encouraged to go hang out and relax, with no pressure to spend any money. There are walls of resources for people looking for healthcare, legal help, and ways to get involved in the community. They host all sorts of groups after hours, all run by the diverse and thoroughly vetted staff. The owner, an eccentric and wealthy man named Stede Bonnet, is always taking suggestions from the community for what people want to see, and is always putting in as much effort as he can to make things happen.

It would be hard to have a conversation with any queer person in the city without Stede Bonnet's work coming up, so of course Ed has heard of The Revenge. He's never been there himself though, for reasons he'd rather not examine too hard.

Tonight, though, he finally hit his breaking point. He decided that he didn't want to keep living with all the fear and stress he had been for the past decade. He fired the manager at his restaurant that was always giving him trouble and took himself off the schedule for the next week. He told himself that he was going to start being himself instead of being the person that everyone around him wanted him to be. He left the restaurant as soon as it was closed and started walking, not knowing where he was going until he found himself staring up at the bright, friendly signs on the windows of The Revenge.

He doesn't go in right away. It's late, and while the lights are still on and there are some people inside, he's not entirely sure that the place is still open. So he just stands there, staring, shivering slightly in the autumn chill, until he hears the door open.

“Would you like to come inside?”

He looks up and recognizes the man immediately. Stede Bonnet himself. He's seen pictures of him before, watched some of those little inspirational videos he posts online. He always thought he was pretty hot, but seeing him in person like this, all Ed can think is that Stede looks like the kindest man he's ever seen.

Stede leads Ed inside and offers him a blanket from the "cozy corner". He makes him a coffee and doesn't judge when Ed asks for it to be filled with a bunch of sugary flavored syrups. He listens to Ed, really listens, says that he's proud of him for wanting to take control of his life, and encourages him to come back tommorow to talk to a counselor who works with The Revenge about how to develop a healthier work/life balance or even start to consider retirement.

So Ed does. He goes home that night with a smile on his face and a warmth in his heart, and he wakes up bright and early to head to The Revenge right away. He chats with the barista as he orders another sugary coffee. He looks through the community calendar and all the pamphlets about the different groups. He has a discussion with the counselor Stede recommended, and sets up a time to have a more in depth meeting with him later that week.

Most importantly though, he talks to Stede again. He thanks him for all of his help the night before, of course, but then they just keep talking. They talk about books and TV shows and childhood. They find out that they have a shared love of pirates and nautical history. Ed promises to cook for Stede sometime, as a thank you for the amazing coffee. Talking to Stede is safe, comfortable, as easy as breathing.

Ed decides that the first thing he's going to do in this new chapter of his life- the first thing he's going to do for himself in a long, long time- is just allow himself to fall in love.

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part three

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

"The centre of every poem is this: I have loved you. I have had to deal with that." - Salma Deera.

(HARRENHALL'S CASTLE. 130AC.)

When Alys Rivers was born, there wasn't a word that could properly describe her power. She could coax rain out of clouds, and foresee a million different outcomes - you were the opposite. Yes, you were different than the men of these lands but your powers were scarce it couldn't even promise your own safety.

Alys Rivers was a real witch, more powerful than any mage that has walked this earth. She had the power to destroy everything, but she never lifted a finger against you. You figured that you'd be safe as long as she loved you - she was your sister after all.

The woman that you trail behind.

"I was worried about you - I thought that you'd follow after your husband. I couldn't let you die." she whispered, staring deep into the fire - taking leisurely sips of her wine. "I wanted to die, Alys." you glared at her - memories of last night flooding through your mind.

"You don't really believe that," she says with absolute certainty. What use was living without the man that you loved? "- rain came and we prepared barrels to catch water. Rain is gone and you move on." she turned her head towards you, hidden wisdom in her tone.

"What do you think your husband would've done? If you died last night, and he lived." she mused, already having an answer in mind. "Silence," you gritted your teeth - but it only provoked her.

"He would've married another maiden - perhaps Rhaenyra Targaryen? I've heard stories about his love for her." she antagonized, and you retreated into your bed. "You don't know him, Alys." you breathed, praying that death would come sooner than men.

"I know men like him. My beautiful sister - seduced by that-"

"If you have nothing good to say, you may leave." you placed the blanket over your body. Ignoring her discontent.

yourname_: yeah he's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me 😎

liked by RhaeTargaryen and 283 others

>comments

aemond_hxghtower: 😨 my reaction to that information 😨

Aegspert: Short 🤣 - yourname_: Says the 5'10 asshole ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? - - Aegspert: @yourname_ it's 5'11*

(ST. JOSEPH THE WORKER'S SCHOOL IN DRAGONSTONE. JANUARY 6, 2023)

"Aemond please please please!" Joffrey pleaded while hanging onto his uncle's hoodie. "Please attend my birthday!" he requested showing the older man his 'puppy eyes'.

"He's not going to stop unless he gets what he wants." Harwin crosses his arms, smiling at the boy who was jumping up and down. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes, Joffrey keeps doing this because he knows that he'll get what he wants, once he does. "Your brother only turns five once," you agreed with his family.

His glare softens - he hated you in his past life, was only interested in you in this life because he enjoyed to torment you. But somehow, along the lines of being your boyfriend - and living with each other, he's found himself falling. He's grown to care for you.

"I don't know how we'll have fun, there'll be other kids there -"

"And there will also be adults." you responded and everyone stared at him for a reply. With a shaky breath, he relents.

"Of course we'll come. We have a lot of time." he smiled down at his nephew, mayhaps it was finally time to put his grievances aside.

Daemon's eyes narrowed hearing his phone ping. He never figured out how to put the thing on silent mode. "Take a left over there, much faster." he commented while pointing the right direction to the Uber Driver. "Apologies, it's my first time in this neighborhood." the driver chuckled and he hums. "There's always a first time for everything," he mumbled - staring at his phone.

yourname_ has requested to follow you.

He closes his eyes - should he accept it? Would you be turned off by the types of things he posted in Instagram? There were a couple selfies and charity foundation posts - the only people who followed him were his closest friends, family and students.

He presses the 'confirm' button.

yourname_ 10:28am i hope that you don't mind the follow request I couldn't find your facebook, I don't have an Iphone for imessage 😰

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:29am I don't have a facebook. Rhaenyra's kids set up this account ,,, something about me being a luddite 🤣

yourname_ 10:29am ohh i totally get those kids life is lonely without socmed i wanted to thank you for paying for dinner last night rhaenyra returned my share

DaemonTargaryen.phd 10:30am It's nothing, I typically pay for the team dinners. It's not part of the bonus or anything Just my way of saying thanks 👍🏻

yourname_ 10:30am well...thank you anyways !

The driver stops his car in front of Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion. "We're here," he announces and Daemon silently gives his thanks, exiting the car before another round of conversation was started.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

Rhaenyra's Bali-Themed Mansion slowly turned into a forest - there were beautiful balloons scattered around the doors, it looked exactly out of a fairytale. "Rhaenyra's husband, Harwin, owns this restaurant chain in the USA. I had no faith in him - but gods did he pull it off." Aemond mumbled, leading you towards the kitchen.

As expected with rich people - their kitchen wasn't exactly the main kitchen. It was a kitchen for decoration purposes, everything looked beautiful in this house. "When you told me that you had a trust fund, I didn't expect that you'd be this -" you stuttered, eyes gazing around the wonderful interior. "Oh no, this is all Harwin." Aemond lied.

He couldn't have you thinking that he could've provided you a better life. There were things that couldn't be bought by money - his happiness was one of those things. "Rhaenyra's husband is cool, he's the kind of person I want to be when I grow up." you whispered and he replied with a small chuckle.

Some things never change.

"Maybe you'll finally start to read that cookbook that my mum bought you?" he teased, hand trailing towards the small of your back. "Or you can cook, and I can keep eating." you responded, he pulls your body closer. "Whatever you say, boss." he agreed.

A man clears his throat from behind the both of you.

"No sex on the countertops, I can't believe that we're having this talk again." Criston Cole rolls his eyes playfully, Aemond smiles. "Criston, it's been a while." he welcomed his father-figure with a warm embrace. Rhaenyra's house used to belong to their father, when Viserys died and Alicent married Criston - they briefly lived in this house. "Too much of a while," the man pats his back.

"Is this her?" he pointed in your direction. "In the flesh," you responded - hugging him tightly.

You've never met the man in person - but via video-call and Aemond's stories, he was a vital figure in his childhood. "You are taller in person." he complimented and you giggled. That was the first time someone called you taller. "You know, the last time I saw Aemond - he was boning his ex-girlfriend on these countertops." Criston chuckled with cadence and Aemond rolled his eyes.

"I do not want to talk about that witch again, what is dead may never die again." Aemond shook his head, his hands finding its place back on your waist. "If you say so," Criston poured himself a glass of seltzer.

"I didn't expect you to be here, I thought that you were teaching that dojo in Manila?" you tilted your head and the man nods. "It's not everyday that Joffrey celebrates his birthday, plus, I thought I'd come to visit -" he winked at Aemond. "It's nice to haunt your mother once in a while." he joked.

"I still can't understand why you agreed on a divorce. You loved her - she adored you. You know how conditional mum's love is." Aemond turned serious for a second. His grip on your waist tightened. "You know what. You should catch up with Helaena, I have to talk to Criston." your boyfriend whispered and you nod.

There were some aspects of his life that didn't require an explaination.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S FOYER)

You saw him again.

Daemon Targaryen - his name brought shivers down your spine. You stalked him a few hours ago - and to your surprise he was on that same train-ride in Italy. It is certainly a small world.

"Oh hey," he greeted with a smile. He held a large gift with both of his hands. "Where do you put this?" he inquired, searching the foyer for a table. "I-I don't know, I didn't bring a gift." you breathed, suddenly conscious of your simple mistake. "Oh no, it's okay - I'm the uncle that brings big gifts. It's my family title," he chuckled, verbally thanking the maid that came to retrieve his gift.

He had a certain cadence to him. He required no introduction.

"I normally bring gifts to birthday parties but we were here on short notice," you smiled - leading him towards the living room.

Why did he make you feel electrified?

You stared deep into his eyes, unaware of the jazz music that began to play in the background.

'All roads lead to you, even the ones I took to forget you' - Mahmoud Darwish

"I don't recommend bringing these kids gifts. I detest spoiled brats - these kids are far from it but they have everything. Bring them to a park or buy them ice cream, they'll like it more." he advised.

Your eyebrows merged into each other.

"In that case, what did you buy them?" you inquired, and he smiled. "30 kilos of kinetic sand ... they requested it." his voice brought shivers down your spine. There was something alluring about his voice, he spoke like a great commander - he knows what to say. He tells you what you should do.

Who was this ethereal wisp of a man? Why did he bring so much emotions?

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S LIVING ROOM)

A small giggle escaped your mouth.

"What do you think? Should people think with their hearts or their brains?" Rhaenyra inquired, piquing everyone's interest with her simple question. "Everyone should always think with their hearts," Rhaenys begins and Corlys rolls his eyes. "The words of a tender hearted woman." he teased earning a glare from his wife.

He presses a kiss to her hand. "I'm kidding, my love." he whispered.

"I mean as women - we think with our hearts first, then our brains - after that we make a logical decision." Rhaenys adds and Laenor shakes his head. "That would mean that you think with your brain, mother." Laenor argued and Rhaenys shook her head.

"My brain only made a decision between what my heart believed." Rhaenys raised her finger. "I think we should think with our brains. The question itself is the answer. Should people think with their hearts or their brains? What do we use to think? Our brains - is it not?" Daemon questioned the question.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean, uncle."

"What about you, (Your Name). What do you think?" Corlys turned his head and all of their attention crashed towards you. "Shouldn't you give an opinion first, sir?" you smiled, pouring yourself a glass of soda. "Oh, I don't think I'll have much of an opinion. I agree with whatever my wife thinks about." Corlys chuckles.

"- then we think with our wives and not our hearts or brains." Daemon joked, earning a laugh.

"Well - our hypothalamus is the part of the brain that deals with love. When we say 'I love you with all of my heart' we don't actually mean that. What we mean is - I love you with all of the neurons in my hypothalamus. So - we do think with our brains. Daemon is right." you smiled and he patted your back.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict has been handed." Daemon teased the others and the table erupts into laughter. "Nerd," Rhaenys rolls her eyes before you both erupt into laughter.

(STRONG-TARGARYEN RESIDENCE'S KITCHEN)

"On the screen, she looked like Alys. I thought that you found her again, but I know that girl - the comeliest woman in Harrenhal. All the knights used to travel all the way there - just to see her." Criston chuckled, reminiscing the past that he had.

He was much more handsome then, he had muscles, his body was toned - but now he was suffering hypertension and all other human deceases that didn't exist in the past.

"She's still very beautiful."

"I thought that if she and her sister would be reincarnated into this world again - they'd be models or something. Whatever did happen to Alys? I thought you loved her?" Criston inquired, Aemond's heart breaks a little. He's spent 25 years trying to forget Alys Rivers. He tried to forget those cold hands that have ensnared him.

In night, he sees her face in his dreams - eyes with kohl and plum red lips. He misses the woman that he used to love. All that he's loved in Alys, he tries to find inside of you - though your faces were similar, your personalities were as different as sun and moon.

He's grown to love you, yes.

You can never find the same person twice, yes.

But if he were to meet Alys - and she was suddenly different in this life. He'd still love her. He'd still love the different ways he'd fall in love with her. His Green Witch.

"or did you not love her?" Criston's eyes narrowed.

"I did - I do." he corrected himself.

"- but she won't come back. She told me that she'll never have a new body again." he shrugged, walking away from the kitchen - pretending that he wasn't affected at all.

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