#he is genuinely terrified of himself to ever get close to anyone

[rottengurlz]

"And then I get sick and throw up and there's another memory that gets stuck // inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk"

[solxamber]

Burn Wild — Leona Kingscholar x reader

Always so close, yet so far away. Leona pushes it down—he keeps pushing and pushing, until one day, he lets it break.

(it's a happy ending, i swear)

Leona Kingscholar has always known his place in the world. From the moment he learned to walk, to stand tall under the endless, unforgiving sun of the Sunset Savanna, he has been acutely aware of how people see him. They don’t need to say a word—he feels it in the heavy silence that follows him into a room, in the guarded glances cast his way.

Most are terrified of what he represents: the second prince, a shadow of the royal bloodline, someone who could inherit a kingdom but never will.

Others fear him for his strength, the quiet, coiled power beneath his lazy exterior, or for his sharp tongue that cuts deeper than any blade, cleaving through pretense and weakness alike.

“Lazy,” they whisper behind his back, as if the word can sum up the depth of his disdain for this farcical game of status and power. “Unmotivated,” they say, because they can’t understand why someone with the world laid at his feet doesn’t fight harder to claim the throne, to claw his way up and tear it from his brother’s grasp.

They’ll never understand. They’ve never felt the weight of a crown that will never be theirs, the hollowness of a title that means nothing but second best. Let them carry that burden for just a day, and see how long they last.

He could laugh at how little they know.

If he could trade this title, this empty prestige, for even a sliver of genuine acknowledgment, he would. To be seen—not as a prince, not as some spare destined to live in the shadow of his older brother—but as Leona, the man. The individual.

The soul that yearns for more than the scraps of attention thrown his way, like bones to a dog. But life, he knows, isn’t fair. It wasn’t made to be. And for someone like him, it never will be.

So he doesn’t hope for fairness. He doesn’t look for understanding. Instead, he pushes it all inward, presses it deep into the corners of his heart where no one can touch it.

When people try to get close, when they think they can soften his edges or pry into the depths of his guarded soul, he meets them with sharp words and a glare that freezes them in place.

They’ll never know how much easier it is to be feared than to be seen, how much safer it feels to keep everyone at arm’s length.

He is second in line, but he’ll never be second to anyone. He’ll make sure of that. He’ll keep himself locked away, out of reach, untouchable.

If they can’t see past the crown, past the sharpness in his words or the laziness they accuse him of, then they don’t deserve to know him. Let them think he’s content in the shadows, in his naps and biting remarks, in the mask he wears so well.

There’s no use wishing for something different. He’ll never be number one, and that’s a truth he’s long since swallowed. But even so, a part of him, buried deep where even he rarely dares to look, still longs for more.

For a world where he isn’t just the spare, where he isn’t second to anyone. A world where someone might see him—not the prince, not the title—but just him.

But that world doesn’t exist, and it never will. So he keeps it all buried, locks it all behind a wall of indifference, letting the bitterness settle in his bones. Maybe, in the end, it’s enough to live in a world that has no place for him.

At least that way, no one can ever mistake him for someone else’s second choice.

Leona doesn’t actually nap. He just lies there, eyes half-lidded, watching the sky or the flicker of light on the walls. Sleep doesn’t always come; it’s not that he needs it.

No, it’s the weight of disinterest, the apathy that’s soaked deep into his marrow, making it seem pointless to do anything else. Why bother? When every glance cast in his direction is the same hollow reverence for a title, a prince without a crown.

When no one bothers to look past that thin veil, why should he try to show them anything more?

There’s a strange kind of comfort in that inertia, a quiet understanding that nothing will change. People like things easy, predictable.

They would rather see the lazy, unmotivated prince who naps through life than ask why. It’s easier for them, and maybe even for him.

But then, there are those like Ruggie. Leona likes people like him. At least Ruggie’s honest. The kid wants what he wants, makes no illusions about it. There's a rawness to his hustle, the clarity of someone who doesn’t pretend to care about who Leona is beyond his utility.

But you? He never bothered to learn your name, never even gave you a second thought. You would be like the others, surely. Just another face in the crowd. Another person who would pretend to care, only to be drawn by the allure of who he was supposed to be.

So when he overhears your voice one lazy afternoon, chatting with Ruggie like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he almost doesn’t bother to look. Almost. Boredom, though, is a dangerous thing, so he tilts his head just slightly, his gaze barely cracking open to take you in.

There you are, talking, smiling with Ruggie like you’ve never had a care in the world. He watches the way you casually hand over your lunch, like it’s the most effortless gesture. Not out of obligation, not for any hidden motive. Just... because.

It grates on him. That smile of yours, that careless generosity. It makes something bitter stir in his chest, gnawing at the edges of his quiet disdain.

You have no idea, do you? That simple act, that thoughtless kindness—it’s not going to change anything.

It won’t make the world any softer for you, won’t stop it from grinding you down until you feel as jaded as he does.

He closes his eyes, shutting you out, trying to shake off the irritation curling around his ribs. Maybe that’s the thing that gets under his skin the most—that privilege of yours, of someone who hasn’t been broken yet.

Of course, life never lets Leona catch a break. He’s dealt with enough by now to know that any moment of quiet is always followed by something—someone—determined to disturb his carefully cultivated indifference.

This time, it’s you. Paired with him for some group project. The usual routine would be simple: the others would either be too intimidated to approach him, or they’d accept a bribe, a few coins to make it easier on both sides. But you? No, you seem hellbent on dragging him into this.

He still remembers the first time you approached him after class, all bright-eyed and earnest, asking for his number like you had no idea who he was. No idea what kind of reputation he held.

He stared you down, letting his eyes narrow into the glare he knows works every time—cold, dismissive, enough to make anyone with half a brain turn and scurry away. But you didn’t.

You tilted your head, smiled at him, as if the weight of his stare didn’t bother you in the slightest. That moment felt like a spark catching in the dark, a flicker of something unfamiliar in his chest.

But Leona, who has long since mastered the art of burying unwanted feelings, shoved it down without a second thought. That’s how it’s always been. If something gets too close, too real, he locks it away, deep beneath layers of practiced indifference. He’s never let anyone chip away at that wall, and he’s not about to start now.

Yet, you’re relentless. No matter where he goes to escape, you somehow find him. He’s sure Ruggie’s been eating like a king for weeks, considering how often you bribe him for information.

You show up in the strangest places, dragging your backpack along, always with that same smile. And, slowly, Leona starts to let you in—not that he’d ever admit it. Not out loud, not even to himself. But for the first time, he lets someone work with him, just to get you off his back.

But there’s something else too. Leona struggles with control. His whole life has been shaped by what’s been taken from him, what’s been denied. Every opportunity to exert control, to hold power, he seizes it, because it’s the one thing that can’t be stripped away.

So when he gruffly barks orders at you, expecting a flash of resistance, a bite back, he waits. And again, there’s that smile. That stupid, persistent smile. You don’t challenge him; instead, you calmly suggest changes, as if negotiating with a lion was just another part of your day.

And for the first time, Leona feels that flicker in his chest burning a little brighter. He doesn’t like it. It’s unfamiliar, and everything unfamiliar is dangerous. That’s the mistake he made before—letting himself believe that anything good could come from letting his guard down. He locks it down again, hard, throwing the key to the furthest corner of his mind.

He won’t make that mistake again. He’s too old, too wise for that now. But the flame, small and stubborn, remains.

Leona Kingscholar knows exactly what he's capable of. Spelldrive isn’t just a game for him—it’s an arena where his talent roars, where his strength becomes undeniable. He knows he's good. Better than most, and yet… not better than him.

Malleus Draconia—towering, unbeatable, and utterly maddening in his ease. The prince of the fae seems to glide through every match, effortless, as if strength itself bends to his will.

And it gnaws at Leona, festers in a corner of his mind that he tries to forget. Malleus has everything Leona could want—power, status, recognition. And the worst part? It’s never enough for Leona to just be good, not when he knows that the world will never see him as anything other than second best.

Another match, another loss to Diasomnia. Another bitter reminder that no matter how hard he fights, talent doesn’t always win. It’s routine now, this pattern of disappointment, of watching the scoreboard flash their defeat while pretending it doesn’t matter.

His teammates look to him with expectation, but Leona only feels the dull weight of inevitability. It’s almost boring how predictable it all feels.

So he does what he always does—retreats to a corner, far from the chaos and the murmurs of his dorm. If the world insists on making him second, he’s learned how to disappear from it.

Leona stretches out, the familiar lethargy settling in like an old friend. His mind tells him to sleep, to let the world fade for a while, but it’s not sleep that drives him here.

It’s the apathy, the exhaustion that sinks deeper than bone. It’s the bitter taste of realizing that no matter how sharp his claws, no matter how strong he is, there’s always someone stronger.

He doesn’t expect anyone to follow him. But the soft rustle of footsteps makes his ear twitch, and he cracks an eye open, irritation already curling in his gut. It’s you. And for a brief moment, he waits for that stupid smile—the one you’ve been plastering across his path ever since you barged into his life. But today, there’s no grin, no lighthearted quip. You look at him with something else. Concern.

Leona stiffens. He knows the look of pity well enough to recognize it, but this isn’t pity. No, this is something far more dangerous—concern. For him. You sit beside him in silence, no words, just the quiet presence of someone who isn’t there to challenge or undermine, but simply to be there. And then you hand him a bottle of electrolyte water, no fanfare, no explanation. Just a gesture, simple and clear.

It feels like a sudden shift in the air. Like a trap laid bare, exposing parts of him he thought he’d buried beneath layers of resentment and indifference. Leona feels naked under your gaze, like you can see past the layers of arrogance and self-assurance, straight into the parts of him he doesn’t let anyone see.

He can’t decide if he wants to snap at you, tell you to leave him the hell alone, or if he wants to let himself drown in the unfamiliar warmth of your presence.

He knows you’re friends with them—Diasomnia, Malleus, all of them. You’re in their orbit, always close enough to the winning side. You could be anywhere right now, basking in the afterglow of another victory, but you’re not.

You’re here. Sitting beside him, looking at him as though he isn’t second. As though he’s worth more than what everyone else sees.

So he asks you, with a low growl edging his words, why the hell you’re here. And your answer is so simple it almost infuriates him. You wanted to be here with him. No pretense, no hidden motives. Just that.

Leona should push you away, should throw up every wall and bury whatever strange warmth is trying to flicker to life in his chest. But instead, he does what he’s good at—he pretends none of it matters.

He settles down again, using you as a pillow, as if this were nothing more than another nap, another way to escape.

But when your fingers brush through his hair, slow and gentle, something inside him stirs. The flames he’s kept buried for so long, the ones he’s always tried to suffocate, flicker just a little brighter. For the first time in a long time, Leona lets them. Just this once. Just for a moment.

Leona doesn’t waste his time on other people’s messes. Why should he? If someone gets tangled up in their own poor decisions, they ought to figure it out themselves. No one ever held his hand, no one pulled him from the darkness when it crept too close.

So he’s learned to stay indifferent, aloof—disconnected from the endless chaos that surrounds him.

So when he sees you in the middle of a heated argument, your back up against the metaphorical wall, three people towering over you, he tries—he really tries—to let it slide. It’s none of his business.

You can figure it out. Why wouldn’t you? You’re always smiling like the world bends for you anyway, always so… relentless. But there’s something about the way those three loom over you, the sharp glint in their eyes, that makes it hard for him to settle back into the lazy apathy that clings to him. He closes his eyes, feigning disinterest, willing himself to ignore the situation.

But then, he hears something that makes his ears twitch, something that slices through his indifference like a blade. You're defending him.

Defending him as though it’s second nature to you, like it’s not even a question. He strains to hear the words, letting them wash over him like a foreign melody—merits he didn’t even know he possessed, traits you speak of like they’re so obvious, like you’ve been holding them in your heart all this time.

It’s the strangest thing. The tension in the air thickens, the argument escalating, voices growing sharper. And before he can even think about why he’s doing it, Leona Kingscholar stands.

He pushes off from his nap spot, his movements slow but deliberate, each step carrying the weight of something he doesn’t quite want to acknowledge yet.

When he gets close, the three people glance at him, and his glare alone is enough to send them scattering, as if the storm that rumbles within him could tear them apart with just a look.

And then there’s you. Standing there, looking at him with that same damn smile, as if the danger you were just in doesn’t bother you at all.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice is low, rough, the edges of frustration still clinging to it. He grabs your wrist, dragging you to a secluded corner, out of the public eye, his grip firm but not harsh.

You blink up at him, unbothered by the ferocity in his eyes, and answer with a simple shrug. "I was just telling the truth."

"It doesn't matter if it's the truth," he snaps, the words leaving him more sharply than he intended. "You could’ve gotten hurt, idiot. You don’t need to get involved in something like that. Especially for someone like me."

For a moment, he expects you to falter, to back down like everyone else always does when they realize the danger. But you don’t.

You stand your ground, and that damn stubbornness that seems to be the core of your being lights up in your eyes. "Leona, I’m not gonna stand there and listen to them trash you. You’re more than they’ll ever understand, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I’m not afraid of them, or anyone."

He stares at you, something twisting deep inside his chest. In the middle of this argument, he realizes something he’s never let himself believe before: you chose him. Not out of fear, not out of obligation, but because you genuinely see something in him worth defending. You chose him, even when it meant putting yourself at risk.

Before he can stop himself, before his mind can catch up to what his heart is screaming, he pulls you close, crashing his lips against yours. The world seems to tilt, everything else fading as your hands reach up, steady and sure, pulling him closer. You kiss him back without hesitation, and when you finally break apart, you press your face into his neck, shy but somehow still so sure.

When you whisper softly, your breath warm against his skin, “I chose you, Leona,” the words settle into him like a promise. His chest tightens, the flame that’s been smoldering for so long finally breaking free, burning brighter and wilder than he ever thought possible.

He lets it. He lets the fire consume him, for once not pushing it down, not pretending it doesn’t exist. Because for the first time in his life, Leona Kingscholar is someone’s first choice.

And he lets the flames burn wild.

I'm not even kidding I made myself tear up while writing this because he's so special to me.

Masterlist

[sgt-tombstone]

Like A Baby

————

Ghost sleeps like he’s in a coffin

On his back, straight as a board, arms crossed over his chest, the whole nine yards

When Soap and Gaz see him do it for the first time in the field, they think it’s a joke, that he’s leaned into the whole Ghost thing a little too hard. They think it’s funny, albeit slightly disconcerting

But over the course of several missions, they realize that Simon genuinely has no idea that he does it. He goes to sleep laying down like anyone else, in whatever position is most comfortable in the middle of an op, but as soon as he slips unconscious, his body naturally arranges itself into the most macabre position possible

They want to tell him about it so badly, but Price convinces them not to. He doesn’t tell them why, he just says that it would be a bad idea, and they trust him enough not to push it

Until Soap lets it slip one night while they’re at a bar, makes a stupid joke about Ghost “sleeping like the dead” that Gaz laughs a little too hard at and they only realize their mistake when Ghost’s eyebrows knit in confusion. So they fess up, reluctantly, and tell him that he sleeps like a corpse. Arms crossed and everything. He refuses to believe it at first, because denial has always worked for him in the past, and he wouldn’t put it past the sergeants to pull his chain like this, especially since they don’t know. But then Soap says he’ll snap a picture the next time he sees it and Ghost starts to get scared

Sure enough, two weeks later finds them in the middle of fucking nowhere in the middle of the fucking night, and Ghost settles down against a wall that’s more rubble than structure. He resolutely stays sitting up because he desperately wants to prove the sergeants wrong, but as soon as he falls asleep, his body slumps over and turns until he’s on his back, arms crossed, spine straight. Soap snaps his picture and feels guilty about it all night

When he wakes up the next morning, Ghost’s first words to him are, “show me,” and Soap should know better but apparently he doesn’t because he pulls up the picture. It’s dark and slightly blurry but unmistakable. Like a fucking corpse

It sends Ghost into a tailspin. The only reason why he doesn’t lose it completely is because Price is there to hold him together. Instead, he shuts down. It feels like a betrayal from his own body, his own mind. It’s a sick joke, a cosmic ‘fuck you’, a trauma response of epic proportions. He’d escaped his own grave, but apparently his sleeping mind didn’t know that

When they get back to base, no one sees or hears from Ghost for close to three weeks. Soap is losing his mind, Gaz is ready to tear the base apart to find him, and even Price (usually very used to Ghost’s moods) is visibly worried. Finally, Soap corners him in the sniper tower where he’s been taking stim packs and caffeine pills in an attempt to avoid sleep altogether. Soap damn near drags him, stumbling and off balance from exhaustion, to bed. Despite how tired he is, he can’t fall asleep, his heart and mind racing with panic at the thought of his unconscious body forcing him to become a corpse again

Right up until Johnny lays down next to him. And then his mind goes blissfully quiet. His heart is still pounding, but for a completely different reason as Johnny curls his body around Simon’s, arranging their limbs in such a way that Simon couldn’t possibly straighten out. It’s the warmest he’s ever been, the most comfortable he’s ever been. With his arms around Johnny and Johnny’s head tucked under his chin, he falls asleep effortlessly

When he wakes up, the first thing he mumbles is, “how did I…?” but he can’t bring himself to finish it, terrified of the answer. Johnny just smiles up at him, mohawk askew and cheek creased from being pressed against Simon’s shirt all night, and says, “like a baby.”

Simon never sleeps like he’s in a coffin ever again

[starkeyisthelastname]

okay, in reality this is a very small moment between them, but it is different and gives everyone a little background on our favorite pornstar. they’ll get there I promise ⭐️

It had been like any other night the two of you had together. A few hours of nasty and brutal sex with him finishing by painting your insides white. It was hard to say why the two of you were falling for one another as the two of you had only been fucking and nothing else. Sure, both of you were very physically attracted to each other, but had yet to really learn anything else about one another besides each other’s sexual needs. He had been struggling within himself to try and get to know you more, not that he didn’t want to, but because he was scared of opening up to someone when everyone else in his life had burned him.

But as he watched you slide your shorts on, he blurted it out before he could take it back. “Do you, uh.. smoke?” He asked, scratching his head. He hadn’t had a normal conversation with a girl since maybe high school, and felt almost embarrassed that he didn’t even remember how to be flirty. He was so use to just bluntly asking a girl to fuck, and not caring about anything else, besides getting pussy, this was going to be hard for him.

You tried your best to hide the shocked look on your face as he asked the question, his normal response after the two of you fucked was usually ‘I’ll text you later.’ You couldn’t help but giggle softly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I’m not rolling.” You said, watching him let out a genuine laugh. Something that made you feel an overwhelming amount of butterflies.

Sitting on his couch and not fucking was something entirely different for the both of you. You had been wanting to get to know Rafe for a while now, but he seemed so closed off that you knew you’d get rejected. He had been defending you on social media, and making comments to you that you were his angel, and that your pussy was made for his dick, as well as the statement that stuck out to you, which was “What are you doing to me?”

“So, what made you get into the fucked up world of porn?” Rafe asked, blunt between his lips as he lit the end of it. It was a simple question, but something he had been wanting to know.

“Oh.. well. I started an Only Fans, kinda just for fun and to gain followers I started posting on Twitter. One of my videos went viral and I was contacted by an agent, asking if I’d ever considering to professional porn. Maybe it was a little desperate, but I love sex and never been camera shy.” You said with a shrug. It hadn’t exactly been your career goal, and you knew you wanted more one day, such as a husband and kids.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as he blew out a thick cloud of smoke. Your reason was so much more simpler than his, and it made him fucking terrified to even begin to his story. As he handed the blunt that he had rolled to you, his stomach dropped when he heard you ask the same question he had just asked you. Oh great..

“I love to fuck, and knew I had a big dick.” He said, nonchalantly. It was an asshole of an answer, he knew it. He just couldn’t seem to tell you how it started and how it led up to him being the way he was now. He hadn’t opened up to anyone about his past, and that was one big reason he was so brutal, because of the pent up hurt and anger he had. What you didn’t know was his cocaine addiction had gotten so out of control that he had stolen a large amount of money from his father to get more to fuel his fiend. He had gotten into porn industry at first for some quick money, he knew he was attractive, loved pussy and was well hung. It was his first scene filming with a well known female actress that had been in the scene for a long time that kicked off his career. He had completely dominated her, and the addicting feeling he got from treating someone so brutally during sex, was an entirely new high. He had traded one addiction to another, and he got paid real well, especially the more popularity he gained. At one time he didn’t know anything else but living off his wealthy father and once didn’t know what it meant to own things for himself. Now he had everything he could ever want. His own place, a couple nice cars, and a job he really did love. Or so he thought he did, until he met you. He didn’t know you if he was being honest, but knew there was something there than he wanted more of. Maybe even… needed.

No matter how arrogant he was, or how attractive, or how good he fucked, he was still lonely at the end of the day. His family had disowned him, meaning he had lost one person in particular he was very close to and that was his youngest sister, Wheezie. His friends he once had, had gone off to do things better such as become doctors and lawyers. He had lost everyone, and making the step to become close to someone again was very hard for him. He wanted it though, and the more he saw you, the more he kept thinking about retiring his name in the porn world.

You had always been good at reading people and watching Rafe sit there and think, you knew there was more to the story. More than anything, did you want him. Even if you didn’t know him well, you felt a connection that couldn’t be ignored. Handing him back the blunt, you took a small sigh. “I don’t think that’s the entire reason.” You said softly, being honest with him for the first time. “But maybe you’ll tell me more one day.” You hoped he did, because as addicted as you were to the sex, you were begging to break his wall down.

Rafe wasn’t use to someone calling him out, and if it were anyone else he would have probably snapped, but with you it was little boost of confidence he needed to start being more open with you. “Maybe my angel, but in due time.” His tone softer than usual. He was Rafe Cameron though, and a knowing smirk ran across his face. “Keep lookin at me like that, and I’m gonna fuckin rail you again.” He said, and despite the grin you knew he was being serious. Him calling you ‘my angel’ definitely had your pussy fluttering.

He wasn’t perfect, but it was a baby step in the right direction of him finally making you his girl.

[lilmoonbunny]

Crush; Bo Sinclair

Bo has a crush, but so does Lester.

Warnings: Jealous!Bo, swearing.

Bo Sinclair was an asshole, anyone who knew him knew this fact, however, there was a side of him – albeit rare – that could be kind and loving, although, there was only one person who he deemed worthy of this side.

Y/N was everything that Bo was not: sweet, kind, caring, and loving. She was any man’s dream. Perhaps this was why Lester craved her, much to Bo’s dismay.

Whilst Bo’s initial craving for her was lust, it soon transformed into genuine feelings, something which terrified him. He didn’t believe that he could love, nor did he think he was worthy of being loved.

“Bo,” Y/N whined, capturing the mechanics attention as he lay beneath a truck. She watched as the man rolled out to look at her, oil clinging to his face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m bored,”

With a roll of his eyes, Bo pushed himself back underneath the truck, turning his attention back to the job at hand. He enjoyed her company he truly did, but there were times when he couldn’t stand to be around her. It was nothing personal, he just didn’t know how to control himself.

The revealing clothes that she was wearing in the summer heat left little to the imagination and Bo almost wished he could take a picture of her, capturing her in all her glory, not that he would ever admit he saw her that way to anybody besides himself; he often struggled to admit it to himself.

He could feel her eyes on him, although he didn’t know why she was so focused on him, but it made it hard to focus. What was supposed to be an easy job was suddenly made harder with her focus solely on him; he almost felt insecure. Almost.

Bo knew he was both attractive and charming, but when around her he couldn’t help but wonder if she saw him the same way. In fact, that was something he pondered often. She was Vincent’s friend, that was how he came to know her and how she ended up residing in Ambrose after a ‘complication’ with her previous partner.

He remembered the nights she spent crying whilst Vincent comforted her, both with hugs and pats on the head which Bo found odd as Vincent was not one for physical touch. Bo would never admit he was jealous, and besides, he wasn’t aware of his feelings then.

The feelings came rushing to him one night as he found her in the kitchen. She was making a coffee after giving up on sleep a little after her breakup. Tears stained her cheeks, be it from the bad memories or the breakup itself, and Bo couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or seen somebody cried; maybe it was Lester when they were younger, he wasn’t sure.

“Sorry,” she had apologised to him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Bo hesitated for a moment, something that he wasn’t used to. Sure, he had talked to her a few times, but rarely alone. He wasn’t big on conversation with new people, let alone friends of Vincent.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Came his response, shocking them both.

“Are you sure?”

“Course, s’pose it’s your house too for now.”

Little did he know, she would become a permanent resident in the Sinclair household.

“Thank you, Bo,” she smiled sweetly at him, and despite the tears staining her cheeks, he found her beautiful. He knew in that moment that he wanted her in more than a sexual way.

“Why are you staring?” Bo asked from beneath the truck.

Y/N paused for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form an answer. “Admiring the view, I guess.” She said with a shrug and Bo could feel his cheeks warming but he simply blamed it on the heat; ignorance is bliss, after all.

Never in his life had he thought he would feel this way and it was terrifying to say the least.

“Oh, hi, Lester!” Y/N grinned, unable to see how Bo’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, Y/N/N. How’re ya?” Bo could hear the smile as Lester spoke and his frown grew.

Y/N’s attention turned from Bo to Lester, red dusting her cheeks from the summer air, and maybe because she was called out for staring.

“I’m good! Me and Bo are just working. Well, he’s working and I’m just sitting here.” A giggle fell from her lips and both the men’s hearts warmed.

As Lester and Y/N’s conversation continued, Bo found himself zoning out, anger forming in his chest. He hated them interacting, having known about Lester’s feelings for his ‘crush’ for a while now. Even if Lester wouldn’t admit it, Bo knew; he always knew.

Rolling out from beneath the truck, Bo spoke. “If you two want to carry on talking, can you do it somewhere else!?” He snapped, immediately regretting it upon seeing the way Y/N’s face dropped. He did debate apologising, but his ego was too big to do so.

She paused for a moment before lifting herself to her feet, silently nodding before walking away, Lester following like a lost puppy.

Bo’s anger continued to fester for the rest of the day, even as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Hi, Bo,” Y/N greeted him, but it went ignored as Bo removed his boots.

It was safe to assume that Bo was in one of his usual bad moods and Vincent had signed to her that it was best to ignore him when he got like this when she first came to stay. It was the unspoken rule of the house, so she turned her attention back to the television in front of her.

Bo, of course, was paying attention and seeing that Lester had left had his bad mood calming slightly, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A quiet sigh of relief was next, although it went unheard by the woman that held his affections.

 “I see your little boyfriend left,” Bo broke the silence.

“Boyfriend?”

“Lester.”

“He’s not my boyfriend…?” It was safe to say that Y/N was confused.

“He seems quite smitten on you.”

“I don’t see him that way.”

Bo relaxed some more and this time it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, nor did his dilated pupils. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what that meant.

As she stood up, a plan formed in her mind, but if she was wrong about this, she risked ruining everything, including their close friendship.

What is life without a little risk? She reasoned with herself.

Bo watched her as she moved closer, eventually standing in front of him and toying with the collar of his thin jacket, fixing it despite knowing that he would remove it soon.

“There is somebody I see that way, though,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile that had Bo’s heart racing.

“Is that so?” He muttered, watching her closely.

“Yeah,” her smile grew, hands reaching out to grasp his face, taking it slowly and gently so that he could pull away at any time.

But he didn’t pull away, in fact, he couldn’t resist any longer and his face dived down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

She could taste a mix of cigarettes and beer on his lips, but it wasn’t something she minded; it was very Bo and she loved him for who he was, flaws and all.

Whilst her hands gently cupped his cheeks, Bo’s reached out to lightly grasp both her waist and the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her. It was something he didn’t want to pull away from. The sensation of her lips on his and his hands on her had his heart beating a million miles per minute and the feeling itself gave him a high better than any drug ever could.

When they separated, Y/N’s gaze turned downwards, a dark blush coating her cheeks.

“I didn’t know if that was a good idea,” she admitted. “I’m hoping it was.”

Bo paused for a moment, feeling as though he was unable to speak. “I think it was,” his voice was quiet yet filled with emotion which was unusual for the man. “As long as you liked it, then I think it was, at least.”

“I did like it,”

Bo smiled, and whilst it was a small smile, it was noticeable to her.

“So did I.”

[shizuturnspages]

Hii❣️

I love all your works! I only found your account recently and I love it so so much! Thank you for doing this for all of us!

If you don't mind, can I request (separate) Yandere head annoys for Xiao and Cyno. No pressure if you can't, but if t you can thank you so much in advance!

❤️❤️❤️

Oh, you’re too sweet! I live for this chaos, so of course, I’ll hook you up with some yandere headcanons for Xiao and Cyno. These two are already intense in their own ways, and dialling that up into yandere territory? Chef’s kiss. Let’s dive in!

Yandere Xiao

❥ Xiao doesn’t like sharing, not even a little. If someone dares to get too close, you’ll see that sharp, cold glare, and they’ll feel the weight of his silent warning. “You shouldn’t trust them,” he’ll say, his voice low and almost trembling—not out of fear, but anger at the thought of someone taking you away. He won’t hesitate to scare people off, and if they persist? Well, let’s just say Xiao’s adept at making problems disappear. Permanently.

❥ Xiao’s approach to keeping you close isn’t openly violent—it’s subtle and guilt-inducing. He’ll remind you of the pain he’s endured, how you’re his only solace in a world of suffering. “You’re the reason I haven’t succumbed to the darkness,” he’ll say, looking at you with those hauntingly beautiful eyes. It’s not a threat, but it’s heavy, binding, and impossible to ignore.

❥ He doesn’t mean to trap you, but Xiao’s paranoia runs deep. He’ll insist on keeping you far away from crowds, whispering about the dangers of the world. He truly believes he’s doing what’s best for you, even as his presence starts to feel like a cage. “You don’t need them,” he says softly. “I’m all you’ll ever need.”

❥ His obsession comes with a self-destructive edge. He’s terrified his karmic debt will hurt you, so he keeps himself at arm’s length—but only physically. Mentally? He’s always there, his thoughts consumed by you, his every action driven by the need to keep you safe. And if he ever feels you slipping away? That fear might just drive him over the edge.

Yandere Cyno

❥ Cyno’s yandere streak stems from his sense of justice—he genuinely believes he’s protecting you, even when his methods are extreme. He’s the kind of guy who’ll eliminate threats with a calm, methodical precision, then look you in the eye and say, “They were dangerous. You’re safer now.” It’s not up for debate; he knows what’s best for you, and you’re going to see that, whether you like it or not.

❥ Cyno doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does? Run. He won’t lash out at you—it’s not your fault, after all—but whoever dared to steal your attention? They’re done. He’ll make sure they regret even looking your way. And when he’s done, he’ll come back to you with that same calm demeanour, acting like nothing happened. “Don’t worry about it. I took care of everything.”

❥ Cyno has rules, and he expects you to follow them. He doesn’t cage you physically, but he controls your environment—who you meet, where you go, and what you do. If you challenge him, he won’t raise his voice; he’ll just tilt his head, that dangerous glint in his eyes as he says, “Why would you go against me? Don’t you trust me to keep you safe?”

❥ Cyno’s obsession has a unique twist—he jokes about it. His humour can be unsettling, a mix of genuine affection and ominous undertones. “You know,” he’ll say with a rare smile, “if anyone tries to take you away from me, I’d have to enforce some very... permanent laws.” You laugh nervously, but deep down, you know he’s not entirely kidding.

[rotten-pomegranate]

day five: hunter/prey with yandere mahito

@aliceattheart @my-eyelash-flew-off

Warnings: hunter/prey, mentions of geto getting to use reader, Noncon, pain

/|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\ /|\^._.^/|\

When he said he had a fun game to play, you should’ve known from the start fun for him would mean terrifying for you

And it will be, he brought you to the dark woods explaining that he’s gonna chase you

“I’m sorry, your gonna chase me?” The desperate tone in your voice was slipping out

“Yes! It’ll be so fun and that’s not even the best park, if I catch you if I catch you before 20 minutes I can do whatever I want to you”

That beaming smile he always has is still ever present while he talks about hunting down and raping you in the woods 



“I’m gonna give you a three minute head start” three minutes is all you get

You look back up at him “I-if I win do I get anything?” He takes a while to respond

“Hmm, maybe a blanket or some new books, anyway your time is probably only two minutes now so you better start running”

What, of course the time already started, you take one last look before sprinting off into the dark woods

You run and run as deep as you can “ok I’m gonna come find you now”

No, no, fuck, your feel like a rabbit being hunted by something larger the life

You keep running until you hear him, oh my god he’s close, already? How, you ran the whole time

You find a tipped over tree next to a wall of rock and dirt to shimmy behind

His footsteps, you can hear them now, getting closer “y/nnnnnn, where are ya I’ve only got ten minutes left”

Thank whatever higher power was watching out for you

His footsteps got closer to the tree, closer again, and then further

You let out a sigh of relief at the same time you get grabbed and yanked by your hair

“I found you”

“Ahh” you cry out when you thrown against the ground

He climes on top of you and starts slobbering into your neck right away “ahh I’m so happy I found you”

He’s quick to rip your cloths off and then his, he’s never been one for waiting

trying to crawl away does nothing as he grabs your ankle and roughly yanks you back to him

Your back scarps against the cold forest floor and his face is in you neck sucking and biting like he had to let people know you where his

“Ahh I know I didn’t do anything but I think you ready to take my dick” no, what, you definitely aren’t ready

“B-but mahito please, you might hurt me”

His hand you’d to you pussy and spreads you open “well that’s to bad isn’t it, i want you as tight as you can be”



He spits on you like your nothing before rubbing it in, oh god that felt awful

He doesn’t care about your pleasure but having your pussy wet was way better then going in dry and forcing the wet out

“Ahh ok I’m gonna go in now” he limes himself up with you hole the same time you grip you eyes and clench your fists preparing for the most intimate pain possible

And why? Just because he can, he can make you feel this pain so he will

“Ahh!” He pushes in all at once, it was to much, your body wasn’t built for this

“Oh y/n, you just feel to good you know?” You couldn’t hear him, he no new that, the pain was to much for you to focus on anything else

It gets worse when he starts moving in and out at that inhuman pace he seems to think is normal

All you can do is latch onto his biceps and dig your nails in deep 

Jesus, he was getting bigger, he was expanding inside you, making it grow

You really did feel helpless when he did this, you where helpless, it shows how little he thinks you capable of, so little he lets you run away into the dark woods because he knows he capable of hunting you down

“Ahh I’m gonna cum ok?” It wasn’t a genuine question, he does everything he wants, doesn’t listen to anyone but the black haired man you’ve been offered to multiple times to which he gladly accepted

The abnormal about of cum he produced straften flowing in and leaking out of you coin sized hole that’s stretched far to much right

“Ahh ok let’s walk back now” he pulls out and stands up to get dressed while you try to match his pace

“I heard of another thing we can do but I wanna save that for a different night, ahh good a warning, maybe you can prep your body

Prep your body for more abuse hopefully after healing from this one

When you manage to get all you cloths in one pile he speaks up “hey, I want you to walk back naked”

You look up with horror “w-what” it was a 20 minute walk back to the sewer at the least

“I, want you, to walk back naked”

Well, not like you had a choice, what mahito wants, mahito gets after all

[nymph-ette111]

Hello again! Its me the one who requested the proxies with a forest ranger S/o

I sawed your post and kinda went 😮 when I found out forest rangers and fire looksouts aren’t the same thing too ngl. I originally got the idea when I watched/played ‘Fears to fathom: Ironbark lookout’. I actually looked it up and I guess the correct term would be “Park ranger” (I still don’t know bro I could be wrong) but I originally got the idea from the fears to fathom so I guess you could kinda base it off that (minus the cult) but I just thought it would be a cool idea. Like for example on the fire watch aspect, Tim is chronic Smoker and Toby is canonically a pyromaniac (idk about brain in this situation) so like Tim could be smoking or toby could be setting something on fire and you would be side eyeing tf out of them. OR, You could just be trying to peacefully sleep in your watch tower (assuming there is one) and One of them would be knocking at your damn door/window in the dead ass of the night and your just there either terrified, confused, or annoyed (its up to your interpretation).

But anyway sorry for the ramble and confusion, As always I appreciate you and hope you have a wonderful day (remember to drink water) buh/bye now <3

(♡) Authors note; in my old author's note I literally said it was inspired byironbark lookout but then I hesitated bcs I thought it wasn't what you're looking for. good thing I didn't delete the previous work :3 SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT I DIDN'T HAVE ANY MOTIVATION TO WRITE ANYTHING :(

HOODIE;

-before the relationship between you two, he knew about your job as a park ranger/ fire lookout.

-actually, he knew about everything. From the tasks you usually handle to your working schedule.

-the reason he didn't kill you off was because part of your job is keeping campers away from the unregistered camp grounds which was quite convenient on his part. (Perhaps convenient for all of them)

-that way he wouldn't risk getting caught on the way/back from a mission, even though he usually drives to his destinations with a beaten up old truck. He knows how nosey some people are and would definitely pull a curiosity move and possibly find his resort.

-but he also couldn't let you run around freely around the forest either, he just kept an eye on you for a while in case you were too close to finding out about his...'business'

-i can see him stalking you slowly seeping into his routine. could be out of curiosity or genuine interest.

-during your relationship, he'd drop by from time to time in the watch tower even though it's against the rules. He'll be careful, he says.

-he's still an asshole very much like his friends, would probably disregard his mudded hiking boots by the entrance and just throw himself on your bed. Not caring if whatever substance he was covered in (blood) stains your bedsheets or something.

-to make up for it he cooks you food with whatever ingredients you have to offer :3 I like to think he's a good cook, staying out in the forest for long periods of time gained him that skill.

-if he isn't too busy, you two would watch the scenery together :) a little nice bonding moment.

MASKY;

-sigh... This motherfucker would NOT be good company for you at all.

-you could be sleeping peacefully just to wake up and find him standing at the foot of your bed just...staring.

-he's making sure they don't get you lol

-who the fuck is "they" (...does anyone get the reference)

-steals any lighters he finds in the shack just to light up his cigarettes.

-yes, when he puts out his cigarettes he just throws them on the ground. not caring if it's against the rules to litter the forest. at this point they're all trying to get you in trouble whether it's intentionally or not.

-unlike Toby, he doesn't help around that much with your tasks.

-if you manage to convince him to bring up some firewood from the shack so you can light up the fire, just praise him. it's enough to boost his already humongous ego and he might consider helping every now and then just so you could call him your strong, manly boyfrie–

TOBY;

-This stupid fucker would send you disturbing messages on his old ass flip phone at night whenever you still have the planks up.

-some shit like 'i c yu :-)'

-... yeah he never likes typing his sentences properly because he still uses those number keyboards (I don't know what they're called)

-it gives you a heart attack everytime untill you look out the window and see that it's Toby being a weirdo again.

-like anon said, he always sets random stuff on fire which always gets him in trouble, you end up reminding him that you aren't the only fire lookout in the forest and that another worker will report it.

-he doesn't listen.

-he definitely scares off any campers in areas they aren't supposed to be. Hey, at least he isn't completely useless!

-the opposite of Brian/Hoodie, instead of cooking for you he absolutely ravishes anything you have in the fridge.

-no, he isn't sorry.

-other than the things that he does to piss you off he actually does help from time to time like helping you fill in the service reporting— using the anemometer, checking the thermometer...etc

-he thinks the devices look neat :)

[earako]

Saw de-aged Stan stuff and wanna join the Ford realizing Stan was a baby when he was kicked out bandwagon

-/-

Their niblings had just celebrated their seventeenth birthday a week ago and Ford couldn't help but think about just how young his niblings are.

Babies...the both of them. It didn't matter if they would be old enough to start college soon, Mabel and Dipper were still children and the thought of either of them on the streets, cold, hungry, and alone filled Ford with a rage so intense he genuinely scared himself.

How anyone could look at a 17 year old child and think that they could survive just fine on their own without a home, friends, family, or a high school diploma truly baffled Ford.

Seventeen...it was right there in the name. Teen. A child. Not an adult.

Seventeen year olds still needed guidance and correction. They still needed to be taught what 'better' meant because how could they know better if they had no reference for what exactly 'better' looked like.

A seventeen year old kicked out on the street nowadays would result in steep consquences for the offending party. There would be an investigation, law enforcement, organizations that didn't really exist back when Ford and Stan were kids would get involved.

Stan...

Stan was seventeen when he was kicked out. Ford used to convince himself that Stan had left willingly. He was too old now to delude himself with that lie.

Stan, little seventeen year old Stanley, was forced out of his home.

Ford tried to imagine Dipper and Mabel out on the streets. He tried to imagine them with Stan's scars, he tried to imagine their niblings scared, paranoid, ravenous hunger making their little teenage frames shake-

"It was wrong."

"Ford?"

"What Filbrick did," Ford growled, turning to face his brother. "What our father did was beyond inappropriate-" Ford gestured to where Mabel and Dipper were passed out on the lawn, napping in the noon day sun.

They wanted to spend one more summer in Gravity falls before heading off to their final year of high school.

They were so young.

Stan was so young.

"You were Mabel and Dipper's age," Ford continued, "It was wrong." To Ford's dismay his brother just shrugged.

"Yeah, well. Different time and all that." Ford pratically bristled at Stan's nonchalant response.

"If what happened to you happened to the twins you'd be furious-hell, I would be furious!"

"Keep it down, pointdexter, you'll wake the kids!" Stan hissed, his eyes darting over to their still asleep niblings. Ford clamped his mouth shut, slowly exhaling, and closed his eyes.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

Stan.

"Look, I appreciate you going all big brother mode but honestly, what could you have done?"

"I could have stood up to Pa."

"After you thought I had betrayed you?" Ford was silent.

Stan...Stan had a point. Ford was angry and hurting and not thinking about the reprecussions of his fathers actions or of closing the curtains on Stan.

He could have done something though!

...Right?

"Ford, we were the same age. You were a kid too when that happened. We were kids raised with being angry and terrified of our dad as something normal. We couldn't do better then because no one ever showed us what better looked like."

'Like the twins,' went unsaid but Ford already knew thats where Stan's train of thought was headed.

Ironically, their great niece and nephew had to be the ones to show them what an actual loving family looked like.

(No offense to Ma, Ford adored his mother, but she was also a woman of her time...and a compulsive liar...hm...maybe he should take up Shermie on that offer for a therapist recommendation...)

"...I just...seeing now just how young you were..."

"Again, we were the same age, Ford." Ford huffed.

"I still say it was wrong. What Filbrick did."

"I know," Stan said, reaching up to squeeze Ford's shoulder. "Give yourself some slack too, bro. Both of us were young and hurting. But now we're old and making things better." Ford sighed and lightly tapped his fist against Stan's chest.

"And people called you the dumb one?" Stan rolled his eyes and groaned.

"You killed the moment. Good job."

"I try."

[snootlestheangel]

Back at it with more Shadow Company Moose

cause apparently my life revolves around him now @cod-dump

Big boy Moose falling perfectly jn line with Soap's type. Big, strong, intimidating but quiet, deep voice, all of it.

Soap being the type of person to flirt casually with people whose company he genuinely enjoys.

Soap flirting with Moose after getting to know him a bit better. Moose being flattered but not into Soap (as far as he's aware)

But then Moose overhears a conversation between Soap and Ghost and realizes Ghost is flirting right back. He's not jealous or hurt or anything (he's learned that's the type of friend Soap is and stuff). No.

He's actually terrified.

He's never heard anyone flirt back so openly with Soap before. Sure he's heard Gaz flirt back but the shit Ghost is saying to him shouldn't even be considered flirting. Its filthy and then Moose is backpedalling out of there so fucking fast.

He's terrified because "holy shit Ghost and Soap are together and Soap is flirting with me. I'm gonna be the reason their relationship ends and then Ghost will actually kill me and no one will know the truth."

The next day Soap wants to spar with him. Moose has learned by now that Soap enjoys challenging himself by taking on the guys that are definitely bigger and stronger. Moose accepts because he's now scared of hurting Soap's feelings and getting put on the top of The Ghost's hit list.

They're sparring and it's going well for Moose, actually. He's so close to stopping it, he doesn't want Soap to embarrass himself. But then Soap flattens him. One second he's standing tall and confident, the next he's on his stomach with Soap pinning him down and holding one of his legs as leverage.

Moose gives Soap his compliments. He's never been taken out so fast and brutally before, especially not by a guy that's almost a foot shorter than him. Soap grins at him, and there's an almost evil glint in his eyes.

"Felt good to finally get you underneath me." Soap says, the most blatant flirting he's ever done with Moose. Moose doesn't react, just kinda scoffs a bit and shakes his head.

Then he notices a certain looming shadow in the corner, skull mask tilted to the side as the wearer assesses him with a cold, judging gaze.

Suddenly Moose is bright red and booking it out of there.

He really doesn't want to linger on what Ghost means by telling Soap "Very good, Johnny. Think he'd let you do it again?"

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, delusional behavior, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, threats, violence, isolation, abduction

Yandere Alphabet

Ryomen Sukuna

Affection-How and how often do they show affection?

🗾​Sukuna isn't one from whom you will get very much affection as he is a being who desires to be feared and respected. His darling is no exception. Lover is perhaps the wrong word to use, perhaps a precious pet or valuable possession would be words Sukuna would rather use to describe your relationship with him. And whilst he can't help the casual moments of his sadism where he hurts you for the sake of seeing your tears and your fear, he can be somewhat nice around you the longer you stay around him as he develops the smallest soft spot for you. Sincere praises for behaving well for him as well as some rough caresses and touches as the curse has never handled anything with tenderness before and doesn't know how much pressure to apply or not when touching you, holding you or letting you sit on his lap. Sometimes he reminisces about his past whilst in your company, sharing small bits of knowledge and his life as a human with you, without a doubt a proof of how much you mean to him at this point. Until he eventually utters one day something to you in a unusually quiet voice to you, something he entrusts only to you. A name. His real name.

Confession-How do they make their feelings visible? Would they ever confess and court their darling?

🗾​Sukuna's feelings are shown through his territorial and possessive behavior and actions, although you shouldn't expect anything more from him. If you desire a someone thoroughly romantic at heart, then the King of Curses is the wrong choice. Perhaps Sukuna's own rough exterior that downright frightens and terrifies you isn't all there is to it. Feelings such as love and genuine desire to have someone by his side are foreign to him. He doesn't know how he should handle his own feelings and he doesn't yearn to do so either. Who do you think he is? He's none other than Ryomen Sukuna, the mere thought that he could ever love someone more than just a simple way to receive some pleasure is ridiculous yet it happens as you disturb his inner conviction and a part of him despises you for making him succumb to such petty emotions. Even whilst in Itadori's body, he is silently brooding yet observing closely whenever you should be around his vessel and the sheer focus of the curse even freaks Yuji out.

🗾​See the abduction as his own confession or perhaps just as him yielding to his own feelings, although he'd never admit such a weakness to you. A confession in a normal way is out of question as he has no need nor want to waste his time on such trivial matters. He has always taken what he desires and you are certainly not going to be the exception to this. A genuine confession never seems to happen though and that is because Sukuna never tells you that he loves you. Speaking those words out wrong would mean truly admitting all of his feelings, the dark impulses as well as the small warm tingle he tends to have in his chest. If you say it to him it is fine but the other way around is not going to happen. So whilst his words and actions often show you his possessive and arrogant side, you never hear those words from him that would prove that you are far more worth than even Sukuna himself would like to admit.

Jealousy-Do they get jealous fast? How do they act?

🗾​Jealousy would be a far away cry from what Sukuna is able to emotionally experience. He has no need to feel jealous about anything or anyone as he is already the strongest there is. No one can stand up to him, no one can truly fight against him and so you have nothing to save you from his twisted desires either. Displeasure is perhaps a better word to use to describe what is going on inside Sukuna. A feeling of dissatisfaction as he watches you idly spending your time as freely as you desire yet nothing stronger will ever be revealed as that is the extent of how far his emotions go. The King of Curses just can't bring himself to feel anything more than this discontent and a sliver of annoyance as he muses about how much punishment will be required once he has you all for himself to see it through that you understand one simple thing. That you're his.

🗾​Off with their heads it is. For Sukuna killing someone is as normal as blinking and breathing. It is a mundane task that still manages to bring him some fleeting excitement and thrill as he watches lives fading away in front of him with nothing but unaltered fear and despair. Everyone who has touched you, everyone who has been a reason for his mild displeasure will be brutally murdered and Sukuna doesn't make this a secret from you either. Much more on the opposite, he actually forces you to sit down and watch with a clenching heart and bile at the back of your throat how he dismembers everyone, your own horror and fear far more pleasurable and exciting than the whimpers and cries of whoever is being strangled by him in that moment. He doesn't even have any ulterior motives behind this besides his lust to see you suffer as he is fully aware that none of them pose any serious threat to him. Not that it matters since they're all gone now. How does it feel to be all alone?

Loneliness-How do they feel when they’re separated from their darling?

🗾​Sukuna wouldn't make a big fuss over it if he has to leave you for a certain amount of time. He has his own plans after all and whilst you are a priority, don't be as entitled to think that he will dedicate all of his time to you and only you. He leaves you by yourself when he wants or has to do so, sometimes even without informing you. Other times he briefly tells you that he'll be gone for a little bit and that he expects you to behave. Otherwise...well, you should know that best by now. Just to have an ensurance if he should be gone for a longer period of time, he tends to leave Uraume behind to keep an eye on you. He at least trusts his subordinate enough with your safety as he knows that Uraume doesn't disobey and knows what would happen if anything were to happen to you during his absence. He never tells you though that there is someone watching you. He's just curious how you'll behave whilst he is gone. Better be on your best behavior because Uraume won't look out for you as they report anything to Sukuna.

Inumaki Toge

Affection-How and how often do they show affection?

🗣️​I'd say that Inumaki is well-established when it comes to letting his darling know that he adores them in many different ways. Whilst verbal praise isn't possible due to his inability to speak, he has resorted to writing you lots of little messages throughout the day if he is separated from you as well as wishing you a good morning and good night every day via mail. Sign language isn't out of the question either if you'd be up to learn it with him. It would be cute, wouldn't it? Having your own little conversations only you two can understand. He isn't overly affectionate yet just enough to make it obvious such as holding your hand or giving you a quick peck somewhere on your face. Little gifts or your favorite snack once or twice a week which he insists for you to accept as well as little dates and special dates for anniversaries or by celebrating something else such as your or his birthday in which case he plans ahead and reserves everything if he plans to take you somewhere else. He also likes goofing off around you because he wants to see you smile and love, you look breathtaking whenever he sees you being visibly happy.

Confession-How do they make their feelings visible? Would they ever confess and court their darling?

🗣️​Toge needs some time to work through his own emotions after he has discovered the unhealthy side of them. He is lucid after all and he also cares so he takes some time away from you to think about everything before he comes up with a plan. He is being very calculative and cautious as he doesn't want to scare you and doesn't want to slip up with his feelings. He arrives at the conclusion though that he can't settle for staying quiet and risking you to be attracted to someone else. He's scared that he might be driven over the edge if that were to ever happen so he would rather become you partner and promise himself to always keep you always happy and safe instead of potentially losing himself to his darker impulses. He doesn't want to come over as too overbearing nor subtle as he decides to take a risk by being open with his feelings. He grows more protective of you, his gaze lingers on you and he isn't pulling away from you even when you meet his own eyes who stare fondly into your own.

🗣️​He would definitely confess at one point but only after he has come up with a good idea how, when and where he wants to do so. Inumaki puts a lot of thought into his confession as this could already mark a deciding moment in how he will go on from here depending on whether you would reject him or not. So he refuses to confess on impulse, especially if he doesn't know yet if you have feelings for him or not. So he waits as he starts courting you without ever admitting it directly to make you fall in love with him and slowly help you realize that he could be more than a good buddy of yours. He's going to confess in a place that has some special meaning to the both of you. Maybe the place where both of you met for the first time or another place where the both of you associate good memories with.

Jealousy-Do they get jealous fast? How do they act?

🗣️​In the jealousy department Inumaki is honestly one of the better ones that you could have. His mature behavior and his normally calm and collected personality don't allow for easy cracks as he understands that you have other people in your life and accepts this fact too. He wouldn't feel jealous of friends or family because he has most likely known you long before he developed an obsession with you so most faces in your life are already familiar to him and he trusts them. Toge isn't someone who judges fast either as he just silently observes from a distance, perhaps observing you has just become a bad habit for him at this point. He steps a bit back yet not far enough to not be able to react fast enough to interfere if anything should happen as he quietly watches over you and the other person. Whether he has the impression that a stranger genuinely likes you or just flirts for the fun of it would also play a factor in whether he would react protectively or perhaps a tad bit jealous despite normally being rather secure with his trust in the relationship.

🗣️​Initially he would just get a bit closer to you as he continues watching whilst gradually getting closer and closer to you until he's so close that he brushes slightly against your back or your side. He can't use words to explain his relationship with you with someone who can't understand his own language because if he could, he would. Instead he has to rely here a bit on you to clarify to the other person that he is your boyfriend if you shouldn't have done that already in which case he just quietly looks at you intently in hopes that you'll understand what he wants. A little bit of protectiveness is always tied to his jealousy which would explain the way he steps at one point in front of you and shields you slightly and just silently looks into the other person's eyes as a silent request to stop if they shouldn't have done it already whilst also looking at you in hopes of encouraging you to initiate for the both of you to leave. He'll push you away himself if he has to do so.

Loneliness-How do they feel when they’re separated from their darling?

🗣️​Toge always informs you when he has to leave and he texts you as soon as he is about to head back to you. He isn't overly paranoid so he isn't going to have a mental breakdown if he has to leave you as he knows that he has other duties to fulfill in his life and he knows the same counts for you. Separation isn't a bother for him although he definitely is relieved whenever he can come back to you. If you would be sick or hurt somehow, it would be slightly different for him because then he would definitely be more worried in case he has to leave you alone as he advices you to be careful and leaves a couple of snacks and medicine behind so that you can take care of yourself whilst he is gone. In such a scenario he will most likely text you a couple of times as he asks you how you're doing and if you want him to buy anything for you when he comes to visit you to either cheer you up or help you to recover from your illness or your wounds better.

Kamo Choso

Affection-How and how often do they show affection?

🩸​I feel like most of the time Choso's way of showing his darling his love will come over as very overbearing simply because he can't help himself. He's paranoid and very protective and he sees himself as someone who has to protect and be dependable for his younger brothers as well as his darling now. This is different from the love he feels for his brother Yuji or for his other younger brothers, this is a different kind of love and because he initially doesn't know anything more about this kind of love besides listening to his two primal instincts to protect and cherish, he ends up trying to hard and taking things too far. He's incredibly clingy and attached to your hip all the time, doesn't really allow you to leave his side unless he knows exactly where and with whom you're going and even then the chances of him stalking you anyways are high. He loves cuddling and holding you in general, adores listening to your voice and stares almost all the time creepily lovingly at you. His attention and his care are smothering yet he genuinely believes that this is what he is supposed to do as your lover.

Confession-How do they make their feelings visible? Would they ever confess and court their darling?

🩸He dissociates himself from people around him unless it is for the sake of his younger brothers and is generally more of a quiet and reserved person. Upon discovering you for the first time and sensing something in his chest whilst looking at you only ends up with him stalking you nearly the entire time because truth be told, he is initially too nervous and jittery with his own feelings to approach you. Instead he becomes your second shadow who follows you around and dedicates himself to protecting you. Sadly he, as always, overdoes it and so he ends up leaving someone on the brink of death for simply insulting you as his impulses to protect you and defend you appear instantly as soon as anyone dares to touch​ a single hair on your head in the wrong way. So whilst at this stage you may not be aware of him yet, you at least know that there is someone who goes after everyone who has done as much as mutter an insult about you.

🩸​Quite honestly, a common instinct of his is simply taking you with him so that he can properly protect you and look out for you and if he's still aligned with Kenjaku and Mahito at that time, this might become reality because none of them would greatly care. If he's already with Yuji at that time, bless the boy for explaining to Choso what the concept of courting is because otherwise he would have just abducted you randomly. Choso tries to not ask his younger brother further though because as the eldest he should know without having to ask Yuji so he ends up observing everyone in his surroundings and might even try to collect clues through movies, ads or books. It is still going to be messy, creepy and somewhat adorable though when he approaches you all of a sudden one day, offers you a bouquet of flowers and admits with a somewhat shy voice that he's going to court you from now on and that he's going to protect you. From that day on he literally walks right behind you so that you can see him and gets you all sorts of random presents. He's trying at least...?

Jealousy-Do they get jealous fast? How do they act?

🩸​He probably doesn't even know up until that point what it feels like to be jealous because his love is paying attention to someone else or because someone else is complimenting his love. Similar to Inumaki his jealousy doesn't come without his protectiveness only that he has serious troubles keeping both of them apart as soon as he sees anyone besides Yuji around you and can't even really tell in the beginning that he's jealous instead of just ridiculously overprotective. He doesn't understand that the reason why he is bothered when he sees you around someone else isn't just because of his protective nature nor does he understand when he feels his blood boiling when you are nice to someone else or someone else is nice to you which he tends to easily mistake as them courting you because he can't tell just yet the difference. He is in either case always rather quick to react as soon as you are around someone because he only really trusts his younger brother with you. Additionally I feel like he doesn't do well seeing you being fine without him as he sees his entire purpose in protecting and adoring those who matter to him so acknowledging that others can do the same is quite hard.

🩸​He doesn't speak up, he doesn't throw a tantrum, he's just deadly quiet as he stares at you and the other person. He's often being a bit weird around you as a romantic lover and romantic love in general is new to him but he wouldn't want to admit it as he sort of stumbles around and tries to work things out. Yet the stare he gives them is suffocating, eerie and unnerving as you can literally see his body tensing up as if he is about to attack and just waits to see anything that he can mistake as bad intentions towards his darling. He's a bit calmer if you're extremely close to him and he can touch you although his creepy stare never disappears from his face. He acts differently if you should be the one who is being nice and affectionate as it makes his heart ache and has him questioning whether he's doing something wrong for you to rely on someone else like this. He grows even more clingy and slightly distraught as he just wants them away from you, wants you to stop smiling like this for them.

Loneliness-How do they feel when they’re separated from their darling?

🩸​He's not doing well if he is separated from his darling, Choso has low-key some attachment issues so he tends to panic quickly if he can't be with you. He's usually stalking you even when you request to go somewhere alone as he always has to make sure that you are safe and that he can protect you. His priorities just shift as soon as he has you and the only one who can convince him at that point to leave you is Itadori at that point because his brothers are the only people he cares about besides you at that point. If anyone else would request for him to be elsewhere, Choso will just deny right away. He's not leaving you, you need him. He's only really leaving you if he has to do something for your sake or for Yuji's sake as it is his responsibility after all to protect the both of you and if any threat is involved, he's going to be quiet deadly in taking care of them. He is going to breath down your neck as soon as he returns though, as attached and clingy as always because he dearly missed you and was worried something might happen to you during his absence.

Mizuki

Affection-How and how often do they show affection?

🐍​Mizuki is showering and smothering his darling all the time because he is definitely a worshipper and has absolutely zero restrictions in showing you that. You have to be praised and worshipped and loved after all. He's smothering you in physical affection and kisses all of the time because yes, he is a bit touch-starved after his previous god died on him and left him all alone. He's singing praises about you all of the time and tells you daily how ethereal, beautiful and breathtaking you are and that he will always love, protect and serve you. Mizuki gets you a lot of presents too, from clothes to food to his sacred sake which he brews for you. As your familiar, he does everything for you and fulfills you all of your requests with a concerning level of eagerness and infatuation as long as it doesn't involve you leaving him and he even left a betrothal mark on you to show everyone else that you're already his spouse.

Confession-How do they make their feelings visible? Would they ever confess and court their darling?

🐍​He's quite the eccentric fellow as he starts seeking you out in his human form as stalking you in his snake form has become too hard for him due to his unhealthy attachment to you. And he knows no boundaries nor can he fully keep himself from gushing over you despite being only a stranger in your eyes as you remain unaware of the betrothal mark he has already put on you. His obsessive infatuation should be obvious for even a blind or deaf person though he's fawning over you in a soft and giddy tone and can't keep himself from touching you as he seemingly ignores your signs of discomfort. After all he is convinced that as soon as he has revealed to you who he is and exlains to you that you are already his spouse due to the mark, you'll start loving him too. He always leaves you disturbed when he walks away from you and promises you with an obsessed gleam in his eyes that soon both of you will be able to stay always together.

🐍He's basically set on abducting you although he obviously wouldn't call it that way. After all he lovingly prepares the shrine for you as he genuinely believes that he's doing the right thing. You two are wed at this point anyways, the betrothal mark has already made you his and so it is only natural for you two as a married couple to move in together.​ He has never seen the real need for courting you as he has always believed that both of you would fall in love anyways. That doesn't mean that he isn't busily showering you in affection and presents in the short time where you don't know who he is as he constantly seems to be in the places you are. Perhaps this can be seen as courting you from his side. He's going to confess everything to you though as soon as you are captivated and stuck in his shrine as he gives you a heartfelt confession of how much he adores you and that he knew that you two were meant for each other whilst watching over you as well as what he really is.

Jealousy-Do they get jealous fast? How do they act?

🐍​I think his at times childish behavior leads to Mizuki’s darling forgetting sometimes that he is deeply unhinged and very much dangerous. That is quickly visible to you as soon as you know who he truly is and it dawns on you that he might be responsible for so many people suddenly avoiding you. When you dare to ask him, he gives you a loving smile as he explains to you that he couldn’t have anyone trying to distract you from what truly matters which is only the both of you. You have no need for anyone else besides him. He’s everything you need and he will do anything for you. Mizuki’s extreme jealousy definitely always is active around people though as he despises it as soon as your attention shifts to someone else. He does terrible when he’s ignored by you as he is essentially silently seething as he blames the other person for stealing your attention and affection as well as hurting on the inside as he wonders why you’re ignoring him in the first place. He’s your husband and familiar, you should only pay attention to him and if you don’t, he gets very quickly anxious. Has he done something that angered you?

🐍​Depends on whether we’re talking about pre-abduction or post-abduction. Pre-abduction Mizuki’s will most likely sent out his servants to scare and frighten anyone who dares to get too close to you despite the mark he has set on you. He isn’t above approaching them himself and deeply unnerving them with the lunatic and sickly infatuated gleam in his eyes as he fawns over you and threatens them at the same time, his pupils mere slits and seemingly quivering as if he’s about to murder them as he looks at them with bright green eyes and with an eerie grin pulling at his lips. Post-abduction requires a huge isolation factor as you are stuck in the temple with only him and his servants but his jealousy can be even directed at them if you compliment them too much as you should only pay full attention to him and give him all of your affection and praise.

Loneliness-How do they feel when they’re separated from their darling?

🐍​Honestly, he would only ever leave you if he has to get something for you because otherwise he’s not leaving your side. His stress and anxiety levels raise the moment he doesn’t know where you are and can’t find you until he crumbles and has a full-on meltdown in which he sobs, cries, clutches his chest as his heart is hurting and might even hurt himself and the servants around him in the worst case. He genuinely can’t function without you or else he will snap and lose it. So he only ever leaves if he has to get you something because he still sees it as his duty to provide everything for you. He’s always trying to be fast when he has to separate himself from you because there is a timer to how long he can retain his sanity until he blows up. He attaches himself to your side as soon as he is back, clutching onto you and silently asking for affection whilst acting as if he’s been gone for years.

[propertyofkylar]

prompt event: date night (m!whitney x f!pc)

word count: 1815

tags: 12. romantic, 15. date night, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, canon-compliant name-calling

You were walking out of the school grounds when you were interrupted by a cigarette butt smacking the back of your head. Whirling around in surprise, you came face-to-face with your boyfriend.

“Oi,” Whitney said, with an unpleasant look on his face. You tensed up slightly as he walked closer to you. “Slut. You’re not doing anything tonight.”

It wasn’t really a question, but you nodded anyway. “Um, yeah. I’m free.”

That satisfied Whitney. “Good.”

“Can…I ask why?” You asked hesitantly, but Whitney replied with one of his signature smirks.

“Because I’m taking you out on a date. Be ready. And make sure you look nice, yeah?” He shoved past you, delivering a sharp smack to your ass as he did so. “Don’t be sloppy. I’m picking you up.”

Just like that, he was gone.

You stood uncomfortably in front of the orphanage, shifting in your high heels. It wasn’t like you were unaccustomed to dates. You went on plenty. But with Whitney? Never. The two of you made out in public, you fucked in school, every once in a while you visited Whitney’s place but that mostly was just to fuck in his bed. He had never taken you - or anyone, as far as you knew - on an actual date. It was honestly mildly terrifying.

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of footsteps and you looked up to see Whitney approaching. He looked pretty nice himself - he had on a pair of khakis and an unbuttoned shirt over a t-shirt. 

When he got close to you, he looked you up and down appraisingly. Then, he gave a short nod. “Nice,” Whitney said simply.

“Thanks. You look good, too,” you replied. You couldn’t hold back the burning question on your mind, though. “What are we doing?”

Whitney tossed an arm around your shoulder and gestured for you to start walking. “I told you. I’m taking you out on a date.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, a look of mock offense on his face. “Because you’ve been a good slut, and I wanted to reward you. Isn’t that enough?”

You still felt a little uneasy, but he was being surprisingly genuine. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go along with it. 

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” Whitney elaborated. “My treat. Whatever my slut wants, she gets.”

That surprised you. “Really?”

“Well, just don’t be a dumbass about it, yeah?” He pinched your side. “If you go and order the most expensive thing on the menu, I’m walking out and leaving you to pay.”

The two of you continued walking until you reached the outside of a nice café. It wasn’t the fanciest place in town by far, but it was still nicer than you would have expected from Whitney. 

You went to reach for the door, but Whitney grabbed your wrist. “Hold on.”

He pulled you toward him, then set his hands on your waist and kissed you deeply. You instinctively leaned in, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him back. 

After a few moments, Whitney pulled back, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. “Mm. Thanks for that, slut. Let’s go.”

Once the two of you were inside and seated, you couldn’t help but stare at him. Eventually he noticed, and looked back at you with an irritated look. “What?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged. “Just nice. Didn’t expect this.”

He frowned, a hint of blush creeping across his face. “I can be nice too, y’know.”

That made you laugh. “I don’t know if I really believe that.”

Whitney was fully blushing now, and he looked away from you. “Whatever. See if I ever do anything nice for you again, slut.” But his tone was teasing and he accented the sentence by flicking his crumpled up straw wrapper at you. 

You hadn’t opened your straw yet, so you seized the opportunity to tear the top of the wrapper off and blow it at Whitney. It smacked him right in the forehead and he turned to you with genuine surprise. That quickly morphed into a smirk that sent a chill through your body. 

“Oh, you’re in for it now, slut,” he said, searching the space for anything else he could fling at you. But he was unsuccessful and took a moment to sulk, which made you laugh out loud. Whitney gave your shoulder a playful shove, then leaned to whisper in your ear. “Guess I’ll make you pay later.”

You suddenly became very interested in the menu. 

As you were finishing your last bite of dessert, Whitney was absentmindedly twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers. You gave him a smile and he suddenly blushed again, looking away. 

“What?” You were genuinely curious. 

But he just sighed. 

“It’s nothing,” Whitney mumbled, laying his head on his arm. “Just shut the fuck up. Okay?”

And so you did, and soon enough, Whitney had finished paying and the two of you were leaving the restaurant. 

As soon as you walked out, he caught your wrist with his hand. You barely had opened your mouth to protest before he was on you, pressing you against an alley wall as his hands slid up your thighs. 

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he mumbled against your skin while his lips assaulted your neck. “You were just begging for me to bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone.”

You felt your body growing hot under Whitney’s skilled touch. His hands groped your ass and you felt him smirk. 

“And no panties. I’ve trained you well,” Whitney said. But just as suddenly as he began, he stopped. He pulled you out of the alley and started walking again. 

You, again, tried to protest, but the brief endeavor had left you light-headed, so all that came out was a few odd sounds and squeaks. 

“What?” Whitney replied, as if you had actually spoken any sort of human language. “I promised my slut a date night. What kind of romantic boyfriend would I be if I fucked you in that alley like some common whore. I’m taking you home.” He flashed you a wink and you felt weak in the knees. 

The two of you walked the familiar route to Whitney’s place, neither speaking. The air was so thick with sexual tension you were afraid that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. So you opted to stay silent and presumably, Whitney was feeling the same way. He didn’t say anything, but the feeling of his hand gripping yours said enough. 

You barely made it into Whitney’s room before he was slamming the door behind him, kicking off his shoes, and shoving you down on his bed. 

“You have been begging for this all night, slut,” he practically growled as he kissed you aggressively, grinding his crotch into yours. “Feel that? That’s all your fault.” 

“Whitney…” you whimpered as he tugged a fistful of your hair. He pushed you so you were laying flat and then crawled over you. His eyes were dark and he was panting. 

Leaning back on his heels, Whitney sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You just look so…fuck!”

You tilted your head in confusion, but Whitney dove back in, pushing your skirt up to your hips and slipping a hand between your thighs. “Of course you’re already fucking dripping. Not that I would expect anything less.”

He crawled back and positioned his head between your legs. “You drive me fucking crazy. Just know that.”

Then he flicked his tongue against your clit and you moaned. 

Whitney began eating you out, truly, like a man starved. He rarely went down on you, which made this even more special. He expertly alternated between licking and light sucking, eagerly lapping you up. 

You tried to speak again, to tell him to slow down, but all you could manage was to weakly moan his name. This had the opposite effect of what you wanted, further encouraging him. His nails were digging into your thighs and when you looked down and made eye contact with him, things were too much. 

You cried out and your back arched off the bed as you came, Whitney still drinking up your juices. As you came down from the high he finally pulled back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, the lower half of his face shiny and slick. 

“Tastes good,” he said with a smirk, tugging off his pants. His cock looked almost painfully hard and flushed, precum dripping from the tip. You reached out to touch it but Whitney quickly was positioned between your legs. He teased your clit with the head of his dick, eliciting a squeak from you. 

Then, he slid into you, letting out a sharp gasp in the process. He mumbled something that sounded like “I love you” but your head had gone fuzzy from the feeling of him stretching you out, so you weren’t entirely sure. 

“So fucking good,” Whitney groaned as he slowly started thrusting. “How’s a slut like you feel so fucking tight?”

Whitney yanked down the top of your dress and began to grope your tits and pinch your nipples. His hand on your body, the feeling of his cock inside you - it was all too good. 

“F-fuck,” you managed to squeak out. “Feels so good, Whit…”

His face was flushed as he pounded even harder into you, lifting up your leg to get even deeper. “Oh my god,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your nails into the bare skin under his shirt. 

“I-I,” you started but that was all you got out before your second orgasm hit you. You squeezed your eyes shut as you rode the wave of pleasure, your mouth falling open and only short, breathy sounds coming out. 

Whitney was fucking you hard, the bed frame squeaking with every thrust. He was panting when suddenly he pulled out of you and stroked his cock as he came. Ropes of cum shot out and sprayed across your tits and the front of your dress. 

“Fuck, slut,” his shoulders were heaving. “You fucking…” he left the rest of that thought unfinished. 

“Mm,” was the only response you could give as you were still recovering. The two of you sat in silence briefly before you sat up. “Hey. You got cum on my nice dress.” 

Whitney shrugged and flopped down next to you, propping himself up on one arm. “You shouldn’t have looked so hot in it. It’s your own fault.” 

You turned to face him, a small smile on your face. “Well. Thanks for the date night.”

He blushed again. “Don’t mention it. I mean it.” 

You nuzzled into him, resting your head on his chest. His heart was still beating fast. “You got it.”

[anton-luvr]

# WHAT'S THE TIME WHERE YOU ARE?

⚝ ceo!wonbin x ceo!reader | angst | right person wrong time au ⚝ note ; first part of my 'something to give each other' series! + feedback would be highly appreciated ^_^

Wonbin taps his feet against the tiled floor, arms folded.

Irritated, he takes a glance at the gleaming Rolex strapped to his wrist. 

“We’ve been waiting for four minutes.” he scoffs, glaring at his assistant. “I hired you to prepare everything for me, didn’t I? Couldn’t you prepare the SIM card before this?” 

Terrified, Wonbin’s assistant shakes his head and is quick to bow in apology. “My apologies, sir. I forgot about this, I’ll try to get it as fast as possible.” 

Annoyed, Wonbin simply tuts and rolls his eyes. 

For anyone who knew how busy Wonbin was as the CEO of one of Korea’s largest companies, they would think he had urgent calls and emails to attend to. 

But deep down under those layers of annoyance, was desperation. 

He had just landed in Tokyo for a three-day-long business conference and product launch, and what was supposed to be a fourteen hour flight from Milan to Tokyo had been delayed to a total of sixteen hours.

And that two hour window that had been stupidly wasted because of bad weather was the only time Wonbin knew you were going to be free this week before you flew to Paris for a shareholder’s meeting.

As the CEO of another successful company yourself, messaging each other was the only way for you to keep in touch. Endless meetings that took forever and getting on flights like these always got in the way, and Wonbin hated it. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to spend more than an hour with you, even if it had to be over text. 

He didn’t care for money or fame. 

He just wanted you. 

It’s been months since he last saw you, and the desperation was settling in even harder.

Your genuine smile amongst the crowd of fake ones at the national business conference was what that had caught his attention, and there was just something so attractive about the way you carried yourself.

Your laugh was the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he prides himself on the fact that it was thanks to a silly story he told you.

Confidence and charisma oozed from your aura, and yet there was so much love and humility in your voice while the both of you talked for hours on end that night.

And for the first time in almost forever, Wonbin felt alive again.

He could feel the connection between the both of you, and he knew you felt it too.

“Sir, your SIM card.” his assistant says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Without wasting another second, Wonbin swipes the card from his hands and is quick to slip it into his phone. 

He power walks to the entrance while waiting for the SIM card to activate, sparing no time for his bodyguards and assistant to catch up. 

Wonbin’s heart speeds up when he settles into his limousine, opening up his messaging app. 

‘just landed in tokyo’ he texts, furiously typing away. ‘hbu?’

You reply almost immediately, and Wonbin can't help but smile.

‘boarding my flight to paris right now :(‘ your message read, and Wonbin’s smile drops. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he rests his head on the cold window, replying to you.

‘ahh i see’ he texts. 'have a safe flight! lmk when you land’

He can only sigh again when you reply with a 'yup! have fun in tokyo :p'

Now, no matter how strong the connection, Wonbin knew it wasn't going to last long if texting each other sporadically throughout the month was your only way of staying in contact.

He’d try to switch things up by sending gifts to you time to time, surprising you with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sent to your hotel doorstep when you were in Germany, or reminding you to take care of yourself with a selfcare set worth thousands sent straight to your office.

But there was nothing more he could do about it. 

He sighs again, leaning back in the leather seat and closing his eyes.

Maybe that’s just the way love goes.

Wonbin can't remember the last time he's been to an afterparty this bad. 

Sure, the DJ was playing great music, but the atmosphere of the entire party made him shift in discomfort.

Everyone was socializing, but only with the motive of landing a new business partner, name cards given out like propaganda five minutes into each insincere conversation. 

He glanced at the small stack of name cards that he'd collected over the past hour he'd been here, and he frowned in disgust.

Making sure no one was watching, Wonbin chucks it all into the nearby dustbin. 

He just wanted to get back to his hotel and sleep all his exhaustion away. 

To make matters worse, his latest message of ‘how’s paris?’ to you from four days ago was still left on sent. 

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but in moments of longing like these, it made Wonbin’s heart ache just a bit more. 

All of a sudden, his phone buzzes to life, and he squints at the screen. 

His eyes run over the contact name, and he almost drops his phone as he scrambles to answer your call. 

“Hello? You’re calling me?” he asks in disbelief, a smile on his face nonetheless. 

“Yeah! I’m free right now, so I thought I’d call you and give you a little surprise." you giggle, and Wonbin's heart warms at the sound.

‘Well, I’m definitely surprised.” Wonbin chuckles. “How’s Paris? What’s the time right now?”

There’s a short pause from your side as you check your watch.

“It’s two in the afternoon here, so I’m gonna go out for lunch with my team in a bit. How about you?”

Wonbin leans against the wall, sighing as he glanced across the crowded hall. "It's almost eleven here and I'm stuck at an afterparty." he whines.

"Just talk to someone, you'll be fine." you suggest, laughing at how childlike Wonbin could be sometimes.

"But I don't want to! Everyone keeps wanting to talk to me, and I'm hiding alone in the corner right now." he complains.

"They just love you too much, hm?" you tease.

Wonbin sighs again, shaking his head even though you couldn't see him.

"I wish it was you talking to me here." he says softly, the energy of the call immediately shifting.

"Well, I am talking to you." you reason, thankful that he wasn't able to see the crimson blush on your cheeks at his words.

"But I wanna see you." Wonbin mumbles. "I miss you."

It's the first time he's ever told you that, and neither of you say anything for a moment.

"I wanna see you too, but we both know that's impossible." you whisper. "We're both so busy."

"And I don't mind waiting. I'm okay with waiting for you after all is said and done, promise." he says, determination in his voice.

It's your turn to let out a sigh as guilt creeps into your heart, and you close your eyes as you lie down on your hotel bed.

"I don't want you to do that. You'll have to wait for literal months just for us to squeeze in a call like this."

"I really don't mind." Wonbin insists.

"But I do. It's not fair to you." you groan.

Wonbin pokes his tongue into his cheek, anger starting to build in his chest.

"Come on," he reasons. "I already told you I don't mind. I really don't."

"But we’ll be so tired and so busy… won’t it get worse if we’re together?” you continue, starting to get upset too.

The terror of realising he was losing you made Wonbin's heart pound, his hands sweaty as he tries to convince you to stay - or at least give this a try.

"Hey, if we never try, we'll never know." he points out. "Please? Can't we just... try?"

His question is left hanging in the air as you stay quiet, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

It just seemed so impossible and so impractical to you.

What's the point of being in a relationship when you'll never have the time to be with each other?

"'I don't know." you lie, feeling a headache set in. "I need to go now. I'll talk to you next time."

"Oh." Wonbin whispers, his voice choking up. "Okay."

"Bye." you say softly. "I'm sorry."

Your apology does nothing as the repeating echo of you ending the call rings in Wonbin's ears, his eyes filling with tears while raw pain tore at his heart.

He knows you want more.

No, he knows you need more.

He knows you need someone to offer their shoulder for you to cry on, someone to welcome you home with warm arms every night.

He knows he can't do that.

But couldn't you just give him a chance?

Wonbin can only slowly sink to the floor as tears start to flow down his cheeks, the loneliness and desperation burning into his shattered heart.

He'll never get to love you.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @junhuiste-ficrec @numberonetaleprince @chwenott @shawyle @yenart (tags in bold couldn't be tagged)

[roe-and-memory]

lightning and his struggle with emotions save me….

those feelings of inadequacy that suffocate his every thought, that fear that if he messes up — acts in a way that nobody wants him to — then he’ll lose everything.. and how, for a little while, all those feelings carry over to radiator springs (maybe they even stick around for the rest of his life)

i cant see lightning as much of a crier, he doesnt seem like the type to want to express those emotions, especially in front of people, and thinking about this concept in the context of radiator springs is sooo…

hes finally got those people that love him and hes so terrified that if he makes one wrong move, says one wrong word, then they’ll kick him to the curb and he’ll be alone again that he just. Stiffles. these feelings.

for a while no one really notices, but flo is the first one to realize she’s never seen him in any negative mood aside from anger like.. ever? she tries to brush it off, make an excuse in her mind for him, but the more she tries to neglect it the more obvious it becomes that he’s purposely hiding his feelings from them and she cant figure out, for the life of her, why. she mentions it to doc, asks him quietly if hes ever seen or heard lightning cry, and the silent pondering from the man is enough to tell her that he Hasnt.

she doesnt wanna be nosy, but shes so concerned because she KNOWS there has to have been something thats upset him in his time here, he just hasnt expressed it to anyone…

but imagine her shock, three months into lightnings life in the town, he comes into the cafe on the brink of tears with scraped shins, blood staining his now torn jeans, and a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

he apologizes to her, sits down in a booth — seemingly not realizing hes wiping blood everywhere — and buries his face in his crossed arms that are resting on the tabletop. its the first time flo has seen him look this scared, and it brings up those thoughts of how long he’s been hiding these emotions from everyone. she watches from behind the counter, a half dried bowl in her hand as she finally catches the slight trembling of his shoulders and her heart just Breaks.

lightning had nowhere else to go for this — docs clinic was closed and doc himself was at home, sally was at home, Everyone was at Home — so the best idea he could come up with was hiding at flos in an attempt to get away from everyone else because when the string of events that went wrong occurred, he Knew then it was that final straw that was gonna rip the carpet out from underneath him and bring him to exhausted, overstimulated tears.

i think at some point flo stops what shes doing, studies the empty cafe, and abandons her dishes to sit down at the table with him. she scooches into the booth beside him and rubs gentle circles on his back like a mom would, and, unbeknownst to her, that just makes him sob harder.

part of her is happy that hes feeling this, but oh Boy, that mom part of her is genuinely heartbroken for him. she doesnt know what happened but she can safely assume hes in pain and startled, and she knows shes willing to sit here for as long as she needs to make sure he feels safe and comfortable again, even if it means keeping these tears a secret from people like doc and sally at lightnings request.

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 5

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter six ♥ summary: a cute comfort fic teehee and featuring their playful bickering ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.3k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: so essentially my concept is that reader isn't a 'sinner' at all and is just a gentle girl who has these abilities just because of a vengence she has + also i hold onto my thoughts that her radio shit is genuinely a curse because of her actions. not really within context of this story but i wanted to add that to emphasize that that is why alastor doesn't know how to talk to her sometimes. ♥ no tag list rn :3

You can't ignore him, especially when he pops into your room. He didn't want to, but with Charlie asking nicely and Vaggie threatening him, he rolled his eyes before giving in. You were the last person he wanted to see, and everyone knew that Charlie asked Husk first.

But nobody wants to get close to you when your songs are so miserable.

Angel walked by your room and burst into tears, as did Charlie when she went to knock on it. Even she couldn't overcome the nightmarish visions you forced into her head.

She gets it now, how terrifying you make people. She understands why you isolated yourself.

Alastor's first thought was to ask you to leave, especially since you brought despair to his employees. But after putting his fingers on his temples, he realized he needed to put his stubbornness aside and be a friend (in actuality, Charlie got mad when he talked about it).

He's never had to comfort you before. His eyes dart around the room, avoiding your saddening form. What does he say? The whole thing was somebody else's idea; he didn't have the time to think about something to say.

What would make you happy?

He sneaks up to you, hiding his static, wanting a second to see how you pose yourself in isolation. The eerie violins show no signs of dissipating; you keep still under your blankets; anyone could have mistaken you for sleeping, but he's watched you long enough to know the difference. Deep down, he is grateful that you won't show him what true terror is the way you do to others; he can't even imagine what his version of torture would be.

Should he say that you can ever push him away? That must be it...it's what you would only dream of him saying.

The first thing he does is have his shadow travel on the wall attached to your bed, where you can make eye contact with it. A bit of static joins your music. It's pretty endearing.

When you reach out to touch it, he's seized by the urge to leave the room and ditch it there to comfort you. Is that all it would take? Judging by your music's influx, he may still sense the harmful waves.

A chill seems to run up your spine, and to your shoulders, and in a slow turn, you look at him. What a sweet girl, he thinks. But then you whip your head back towards the wall. His eyebrow twitches.

Alright. Playtime.

He emerges from his shadow in the blank of an eye and lays on the bed next to you, on his side, propping himself up by the elbow. Your eyelids flicker at the sight of him.

Your hand noses between your bodies, and in a careful push, you shove his face away from you. He stares at the wall. When his eyes meet yours, there's a warning, and you pull away.

You strain and turn around, but his hand yanks you back to face him.

"Stop trying," you sign.

'You've changed so much,' he said yesterday, facial expression portraying nothing but disgust. And with his prideful smile, 'Overlords rise and fall, and I remain through it all.'

With your signs, he stays still, brain racing. "I'm not trying anything."

"I know you don't care, who asked you to be here?"

He almost responds with an answer. He lifts his hands to his shoulders, the ghost of 'princess' on his hands, before he transitions it to, "We all care about you, my dear."

He struggles. "I care for you."

"You're lying."

When you turn away, he lets you. But that doesn't mean he doesn't grab your waist and pull you against him, making room for him to transport right in front of your face again.

"Why don't you stop trying to drive me away? It's not going to work. I'm not going anywhere. I never have."

Except for the years he left you alone, you retort only with your expression. You both skip over that conversation.

"You always came back." You sign.

Alastor is winning you over. He knew that would work. Even your music has started to lighten up, though the minor key is still prominently lingering.

"Of course I do, darling."

For a simple test, you lean your head forward, and with an instinct he regretted, he presses his forehead against yours. But it's not enough to calm you down. He notices the lack of motion in the room, how still your hips are, and how small your breathing is. Your neck, as gorgeous as it is, is bent at an uncomfortable angle to match him. He knows it hurts you, so like the gentleman he is, his big hands cup your neck and cheek, letting you rest against him.

There you go; your music calms completely. Was it that easy for you to forgive him? You must genuinely relish him. You couldn't process the next several seconds. His forehead pulls away from yours, and your eyes widen when he moves closer and presses his lips against your forehead. They don't perk like a kiss but rather brush against you.

And then he disappears, his task considered done, and he leaves you flustered (on purpose). That asshole. Lukewarm air passes over your shoulders. Hell's days are always warm, but you find yourself shivering uncontrollably. He's only held you like that once before, the last visit before he left for what felt like an eternity. His lips felt like Heaven then, just as they do now.

After a few minutes of lying in your bed, exasperated at his fleeing, especially after holding you in your bed like that, you try to grasp how much he probably disliked doing that (unbeknownst to you, false, it was just the uneasiness if you were going to do something).

Flickering lights grab your attention, and you turn around to see Charlie flicking your light switch, already half inside the room. With an awkward wave, she invites herself in, fiddling with her hands. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Your eyes widen. You're in trouble, aren't you? Will they kick you out? Is this the end of everything? "I'm sorry for all that," you try to act casual, "Sometimes it happens."

Which is the most dismissive way to describe it.

Charlie just smiled softly, shaking her head. She keeps walking into the room, perhaps because of the urgency, which explains her bad manners.

"No, no, you don't have to worry about that—this isn't about you," she reassured you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I need to ask you something."

Even more ominous.

"What possibly?" You sit up in bed properly, letting your legs dangle from the side. "Am I supposed to be keeping a secret? Is it about Alastor?" The words slip. Those sentences together are the worst combination.

"It's... Partially about him, yes." She responds, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was even holding. How is she going to explain this? You look her up and down, taking in every bit of her body language.

"Partially?"

She nods, beginning to fumble her hands together as she tries to form words. You stay patient, letting her figure it out for herself while at the same time screaming inside. Even your music starts to change.

She forces out whatever she can muster. "How long have you known him?"

"Since the moment he entered Hell we've known each other. Now tell me why you ask?"

Charlie begins to fidget as soon as you confirm, almost like she doesn't want to continue that conversation. She took another deep breath before responding. "Has he always acted like this? Did something change him?"

"Goodness gracious, will there be an overall point to this? He maintains his ideals, yes." You put a hand on your forehead to calm yourself down.

"That wasn't what I asked you."

Your eyes pierce hers, the look in your eyes reminding her that you were an Overlord, while the stare she has reminds you that she could kill you in an instant. Charlie Morningstar is glaring at you.

"He hasn't changed." You start off slowly, making sure she can understand. "You can trust me on that. There isn't any drastic events in his time in Hell and he will never change."

You say the lie as if it's second nature. From the time you left, something could have happened to him. With the differences in his composure, having less goofiness than you once remembered, you know it must have been something.

"That's exactly what I'm concerned about."

"Oh, he's not going to hurt anyone here." Your laugh doesn't comfort her. "If he wanted to, he would have already."

She has always assumed that, but hearing it from one of his closest friends makes her feel better.

She needed to come to you to confirm her beliefs. She trusts Alastor, but only to some extent. His motives are questionable. However, if you trust him, then why shouldn't she?

"Do you really think so?

"I know so. Don't you go worrying about it, princess."

She takes a deep breath, her smile returning. "Thank you. And-And thank you for being here! I gotta tell Vaggie."

The interaction ends with her grabbing your hands, nodding, blushing, and turning away with excitement in her steps. So delighted to keep her lover happy.

You look around your room, searching for any clue of Alastor's shadow. You wouldn't want him to know you were just talking about him. With no sign of him, the privacy offered calms your nerves.

You strip off the nightgown, definitely shooing away any of his shadows that could have been around. Brush your hair and tie lace layers to your waist before putting on the final layers of your dress. You look just as you did those bizarre years ago. A smile reaches your face, one that only you have witnessed.

.

"You keeping yourself busy?" You sign, sitting down at the bar. The slight ting of melancholia in your music makes Husk's eyes water, but he swallows the lump in his throat so as not to make you feel guilty.

"You could say that."

There's a childish kick of your legs. "Did you know I was coming?"

"Of course I did. We can hear you from a mile away."

"Not like that, Husk," you laugh and wave at him. "I meant when Alastor left."

But the conversation is closed before it can even start.

"Ah, finally, you've joined us!" Alastor's shadow dances across the walls before Alastor sits next to you.

"Yeah, I had to eventually." You give him the most comforting smile.

"What have you been doing since this morning?"

You give a joyous smirk, sarcasm evident. "I can ask you the same thing."

"Oh, you know," he plays along, "the usual. Nothing. Nothing here satisfies my interest."

“Interests like cannibalism? Gruesome murder? Your boredom must be unbearable! Were you waiting for me to join you?”

“Oh my, how sadistic of you. Are you a glutton of violence and murder, my dear?”

"Maybe I am, everybody loves letting off a little steam."

He laughed softly and stood beside you after you sat at the bar. His smile never left his face, even as he gave you a look that screamed oh, bullshit. You still have those tendencies?

“Oh yes, of course. A very common thing, letting off steam. So tell me, my dear,” he leans forward against the bar, "How do you like to let off steam then?”

You avoid his question for a few seconds as you point to a bottle on the shelf, Husk throwing a thumbs up before treating you. You lick your lips. "Going around luring people in, I suppose. Showing people their true weaknesses. The same old, same old, ah, do you remember?"

His smile widens, and his movements grow almost excited and cheerful. “Ah yes, what a pleasing reminder. I vividly remember you tearing hearts out of people,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes look you over once more before signing speaks again. “Though, I also recall how you hated getting bloody."

You laugh. "Ah yes, it was the stickiness. I used to ask you to poof it off for me." You wave a hand dismissively, a small smile growing. Husk stares at you two and the joyous banter between friends and he gets a sick feeling in his gut. Two dangerous and terrorizing overlords laugh as if they're humans again. There's no worse thing in Hell.

He chuckles once more and gives a small roll of his eyes before leaning forward and putting an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you closer gently, making sure you didn't topple over.

“Oh, and how you'd hate touching me whenever you saw me after a meal. You wouldn't even shake my hand!” He continues as he moves his hand and fiddles with a strand of your hair. “Though, I suppose it’s quite ironic.”

"Ironic?"

His smile turns into a smirk, his hand still gently playing with a strand of your hair as he signs sarcastically.

“Oh my dear, you really are quite simple sometimes, aren’t you? You can incapacitate anybody to the point of unrecognition right in front of me, yet you never seem to enjoy seeing me when I do. Quite ironic, don’t you think?”

"You're a tad bit scary, and I wouldn't consider myself as scary as you. You looked frightening, and I'm afraid I looked beautiful." A small laugh leaves your lips. Your thoughts flicker through all the moments you've seen him covered head to toe in blood, the moments where he'd just smile and address you like nothing was wrong.

He continues to smile without faltering, his head tilting, and he sits so close to you that Angel starts paying attention with wide eyes.

“And too beautiful, I’d say. Your victims just fall into your lap, imagine a world where mine would! But of course, I find myself enjoying the chase."

Great, Husk thinks, now they're bantering like serial killers.

"Alastor, all of Hell would be extinct if people just fell into your lap."

His eyes were locked on yours, a soft and almost mocking expression on his face. “Let’s be honest, darling. I doubt all of Hell would be gone.”

"You'd save Rosie," you list off people. "Mimzy, of course, if you're considerate enough. Hmm, who else? Nifty, what a charming woman."

He gave a soft roll of his eyes and decided to list more names.

“Ah yes, you can’t forget old Husker at the bar can you! After all, he does keep me entertained with all his sarcasm and wit." His eyes slide over to the cat in question, who avoids his gaze to pretend he's having a deep conversation with Angel.

"That's all I can think of!" You smile to yourself, both of you playing around with the apparent other option. "But I doubt you'd enjoy life without victims. That's your forte down here. Or... most certainly ever."

All he offers is a slight nod in agreement. “That’s absolutely correct, darling. I would probably be dreadfully bored without all those wonderful victims to have my fun with, and my dear, you'd never become one of them. I'd keep you here.”

"What if you get too bored and decide to kill me off?" Your smile becomes lopsided when you try not to laugh. The drink before you finally gets touched as you bring it to your lips, continuing to sign with the other hand. "I'd leave your little party."

“Oh, please. As if I would ever kill you. After all, you keep me entertained when you're near.” He says, eyes gleaming in amusement as his eyes lock onto yours, his smile growing wider as he rests an elbow on the table, his entire body facing you.

"What a compliment," You put the drink down a little too hard. "You know how to make a lady blush."

The same smile stays on his face, not faltering as he lets out a soft, almost ridiculous chuckle, knowing you can't hear it. He replies as if you weren't being sarcastic.

“Oh, I always knew how to properly flatter people!" He pauses for a moment, grabs your drink, and cheers to you. “Though I do believe I like it when you blush more.”

He downs it as if it's nobody's business.

"I can tell," and that's the only response you give to that. "Has Charlie given you any demands today?" You quickly change the topic, trying to keep the casualness from becoming something more.

He leans back from the bar, shaking his head. "Oh, I wish she gave me something fun to do. Something to keep me preoccupied, but I was once again given nothing.”

"Do you have any plans, then? Something to help your forever boredom?"

He pauses, simply sitting in place with a smaller smile as he seems to think for a moment. “Hmm, not a single thing, I suppose. My only plan for the evening was to see you again! That lovely music of yours tells me that you feel much better.”

"Always better when I see you," you try to say but end up rolling your eyes sarcastically, turning away. "Thank you for that. I know I scared the others."

“Oh, please. You scaring the others is quite the common occurrence at this point. I doubt it surprises anyone anymore.” The loud laugh you give him helps him continue, “And of course! No need to thank me, I'll always be here now.”

"Very funny, what a comedian you are." The looming sensitivity of the topic doesn't fail to make me feel a twinge of guilt. It's embarrassing how much you depend on him, though he must enjoy it greatly with how much he edges it on.

“Oh my, my dear, always getting sarcastic with me, I do wonder why.”

"Do you like?"

“Until the day we die."

"How sweet!" It's your turn to cheer to him. "If we died together, I'd be such a winner. Or would you?"

Angel puts a hand between you two and signs the few sentences he knows. "Get a room."

Alastor barks out a laugh while you just smile.

"This is a room! How witty you are, Angel Dust."

He turns to you for approval, and his smirk grows wider when he sees your smile and the hint of genuineness in your eyes; his lids fall down almost teasingly. You focus on Angel's glance at you, where you just give the smallest shrug at him. Alastor continues the chatter and pretends Angel isn't even there. Husker tries to wave Angel away with a warning. If you're going to piss off anybody, don't let it be those two.

“Oh, I always win, darling. You really should know that by now.”

His signing is filled with gliding in a way that only an old-fashioned man can manage.

"You won me over." A blatant confession, but you pretend all it is is a friendly remark. "And you won the trust of the princess of Hell! I guess that's just the charisma you're known for. I always knew you would accomplish something great. When you first arrived, I remember how you started your reputation by picking off overlords like they were flies. You should have heard the gossip Zestial started!" And the most impactful change of tone, "Can I ask a question?"

His smile grows almost wider at your acknowledgments. Good to know he left an excellent first impression. His response lands in his brain, but he considers communicating it, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as he slowly nods once, signaling for you to go on.

“Of course you can ask a question, dear.”

"Why didn't you kill me?" Your smile seems to grow. A few days ago, if you were to ask, you would be frowning and nervously looking away. But the rather blunt words he forced you to comprehend last night cause you to realize just how much you've lost the attitude you were known for. When did emotions get ahold of you?

“Now, now, dear, you didn’t seriously think I’d kill you, did you? You should know that the day we met, you have captivated me. I wouldn’t simply kill you after being so captivated by you. Now, why didn't you try and kill me?”

His question has never crossed your mind. Your eyes widen a bit. Alastor relishes in catching you off guard.

"For the same reason, of course. There's nothing better than someone bewitching." You place a hand on your cheek.

"Well, I’d consider it fair, seeing how you haven’t tried to kill me.”

The huff Husk gives doesn't go unnoticed by either of you. You turn to him, a silent notion that he's been counted, and gesture back up to the drink he poured for you again. This time, he makes another one for Alastor. "Oh please," Alastor pushes the second drink towards you. "It was absolutely disgusting."

You roll your eyes, taking a painfully loud sip from the glass and letting out an 'ah' when finished. But then your eyebrows furrow, processing the sentence he had previously said.

"Haven't? Don't you mean hadn't? I wouldn't even think about killing you now." Once again, you shrug, but lighter this time. "Young man, you know that you'd win."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you've realized that your taste in drinks is absolutely dreadful.” His ears flatten on his head. "Did you seriously just call me a ‘young man’? Really, darling?”

"I'm older," you remind, playfully shaking your shoulders, tilting your head back and forth as you do so. "You're a young man to me, never forget. I could just almost pinch your cheeks."

“Oh, well, excuse me, grandma.” He says, mocking your gesture. “Never say young man ever again. Or that you can ‘pinch my cheeks.’”

"So defensive." The drink once again finds its way to your lips. "Next time I hold your face, I'm going to pinch your cheeks. I got to catch you by surprise."

"You'll never be able to touch me again."

"You wouldn't be able to live without it. Don't pretend not." You swivel the stool, ensuring one of your shoulders blocks Husk's sight. "I know your secrets."

“What can I say, darling?" Both of his hands go up as he shrugs. "You're getting rather confident, aren't you?"

Is that a threat? You lean back, eyebrows furrowing. "Aren't you the confident one here?"

His fingers gently grab your chin and pull your face closer to his, his eyes studying you closely. “My, what a cute question, darling."

You two should definitely get a room.

"Maybe not confident," you tease, "Perhaps passionate? I would never want to be in the way of your passions. What would I do if you went all big scary monster on me?"

What a curious way to phrase it. Do you consider it a 'big scary monster' when his limbs contort and his bones crack? That's the charisma he's always loved.

"Do I not scare you, my love?”

The question surprises you a bit; the tone of it unmatches the previous tension. "No, of course not."

His once-consistent smile grows enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head slightly in a soft yet sarcastic manner.

“No, of course you’re not afraid of me, darling. You’re never afraid of me. Always so fearless when you’re around me, isn’t that right?”

His cracked, sour casualness gives a dynamic much love when side by side with your relaxed attitude. You smirk and shake your head. "I'm as brave as a lion."

"Of course you are."

"Then it's settled, I should have no reason to be scared of you. Case closed." You stand, extending your hand to shake his. "To mutual respect." He stares at it, wondering if he can trick you into a deal at this very minute. He glances up at you, eyeing you closely as he slowly and gently takes your hand.

“Ah, yes. To mutual respect." He shakes your hand firmly and politely. Another day.

"Perfect." You pull away, looking around the room at where to go next. Sit on the couch? How boring. You can slide down the stairs railings; that would be more exhilarating. "You said you wanted to see me this evening? Is there really anything to do around here? Do you just sit and dissociate all day?"

He sighed when you pull your hand away from his. His eyes still follow you closely. His smirk dropped slightly, misperceiving your words.

“My, how cruel. You really think all I do is sit and dissociate all day?”

"It's what you do instead of sleeping. Quite unsettling, Alastor."

"Always awake, my love. Always awake."

"Definitely. Yeah, my mistake."

Your smile reminds him of the decades you've spent together just having a long conversation. It's the type of conversation two married people would have when they get ready for work in the morning.

Sitting on the couch ended up being a good idea. You miss making him laugh. Alastor always looks at you as if he wants your blessing, his eyes remaining on you, watching your every expression and reaction to his words.

It's a unique type of interaction with The Radio Demon, but not a bad one. There's nothing that makes you feel more special than the way he looks at you.

Stop doing that. You plea in your head, and you drive me insane. How else am I supposed to feel?

He crosses his feet when he hears the jazz finding its way into your music. He leans into the couch, smile growing, not letting you know why he's smiling.

[tokoyamisstuff]

Incursio Infernalis

[latin] - "hellish invasion", a phrase used during an exorcism to describe a demonic possession

18+ / 5,3k. words / Alexander Anderson x f! Reader / not proofread

-> Prequel <- (not necessary to understand the story)

Synopsis: An Incubus takes over your mentor and unveils his impure secret.

Warnings: Dubious consent, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, angst, blood, biting, knive play, bit of dirty talk/slut shaming, breeding kink, threats, abuse, self-harm, probably more...

⚠️Dead Dove - Do Not Eat⚠️

"When will Father Anderson return?"

"Very soon." You smile down to the children that had gathered on the cozy carpet front of the chimney, closing the book you had read to them until now. "He is still on a mission, but he promised to be back tonight. And he also told me that he'll bring you lots of gifts!"

"Can we stay up until he's here?" one of the older children asks excited, and all the others join in, babbling about preparing a 'welcome-back-party' for their beloved caregiver.

An adoring sight, never failing to warm your heart.

"I don't mean to spoil the fun" you interrupt their cheering, clasping your hands together in a placating manner. "But I fear it'll be far too late for you to bear. How about we let him sleep in and make a nice breakfast together? I bet he'd be delighted."

"Okay..." they half-whine, not seeming very enthusiastic and yet their manners deny them any objection. After all, Anderson teaches them strict but loving nonetheless.

One of the many things you admire about the Paladin.

After the evening routine and tucking them all into bed, you hear your foster-children whisper and giggle behind the closed bedroom door. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but their little voices echo through the hallway nonetheless.

"Father Anderson and Miss Y/L/N are almost like a real mom and dad!" One of them declares happily, and all of the other kids aggree. You smile to yourself long after you had reached your own humble chamber, a familiar warmth encoating you as you repeat their words in your mind, reminiscing about the past.

Yes. Despite everything that had happened, you finally have a home. People you love and might even dare calling family. It's all you ever dreamt of and so much more.

Truth be told: When you first met Iscariot's most valuable asset, you were completely and utterly terrified. Back then you could've never imagined what a kind and gentle soul lied beneath this bloodthirsty lunatic.

Anderson had found you to be the last survivor of a vampire's attack - most likely due to your virginhood - and instantly fell into a murderous rampage. The man killed anything and anyone in sight, slaughtering himself through eldritch horrors and Ghouls alike while laughing manically, as if he was having the time of his life.

The situation itself was already traumatic and bizarre beyond belief, but when you saw the Priest's limbs getting torn off just to grow back in the blink of an eye, you were sure he was just as much of a monster as the ones taking you captive.

You thought this was nothing more than a fight among predators, and you'd continue to be the doomed prey nonetheless.

The sight of him was forever carved into your brain: He was covered in blood and viscera, strained breaths visible as feeble mist in the cold warehouse when he finally turned his attention to you. Realizing you were still paralyzed in fear, he kneeled down to your height, making himself appear harmless - an impossible task for a man of his calibre.

As soon as he reached out for you a distraught scream escaped your pursed lips, and you shuffled away until your back had contact with the metal wall behind.

"My my" he spoke, voice gravely and laced with genuine concern. "I am a man of god, my dear. You have nothing to worry about."

"Lies" your survival instinct was practically hammering against your skull, but what could you ever do against the literal behemoth right in front of you? It was hopeless, so you decided to just give in to your fate.

Still you hissed when he dared touching you, squeezing your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable - but instead of pain, a strange warmth encoated your trembling form. It was his coat that he draped over you, gloved hands only briefly running up and down the sides of your shoulders before giving them a reassuring pat.

"Poor gal. Are you hurt?" You mutely shake your head, too exhausted to speak. The smile he then presented to you was more frightening than soothing, a snarl with his unusual sharp canines that made you wonder if he was not entirely human after all. "Then please let me accompany you home. It's the least I can do."

Home... There was no such thing, not even before all of this. You had led an empty life, devoid of any meaningful connections.

Maybe it was the shock that made you think about such trivial things, or maybe his calming aura made you comfortable enough to open up for the first time in your life.

But now that the imminent threat to your life was gone, realization hit you like a tidal wave: You don't want to go back.

"I-" you stop yourself, feeling a suffocating lump form in your throat. "I don't have a home. I have no one."

There was no way of reading his expression until then, the reflection of his glasses hiding away his eyes. But the corner of his mouth pointed downwards, and there were deep wrinkles appearing on his forehead with every word that dropped from your lips, as if he was contemplating something.

"I'm...I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. Thank you for saving me, really. Forget what I just sai-"

Before you could even finish your rambling, the man had picked you up out of a whim, holding you firmly but careful in his arms. Not really something you ecpected a priest to do, but compared to your earlier torment it felt not as much like a fever dream.

Only now you were able to see the deep blue of his eyes, an oddly calming sensation in the gentleness of his gaze. This time his smile is less forced, and you decide you like it after all.

"Well, I'm always glad to help a lost soul in need. In any way I can, and I assure you I'm good at more than just slaying beasts." He snorts at his own joke before jubilantly explaining "I own the orphanage Ferdinant Lukes, a safe place for children that have lost their families due to the occult. It's very secluded and doesn't have much to offer, but we can surely make room for another helping hand. If that's what you want, I mean."

The offer catched you off guard, especially since you haven't even started processing what happened beforehand. And yet you quietly aggree, tears of relief wettening his shirt as he carried you away to a blissful life.

That was four years ago, and not once you regretted your choice.

He assured you that he never brought you here out of pity, but because you reminded him of himself. Once he was also lost and without purpose, and he admired your strenght to accept help and not give up.

You sigh dreamily as you fall backwards onto your mattress, picking up the only belonging you have on the nightstand. Its a photo of you, Anderson and 'your' children during a field trip to a christian museum. Letting your fingers run across the glass frame, you can't help but notice that Anderson has saved you in more ways than just one.

But your gratitude was a dangerous soil, and over time it had blossomed into more than just innocent admiration.

As a priest he had taken a vow of chastity, and there is no way a devout catholic like himself would ever give in to such temptations, let alone be receptive to them at all.

Approaching him in this way would definetly endanger the life you had built at his side. And isn't the way things are almost the same as a relationship, if not even better?

Doesn't seem like he'll be back any time soon. Maybe you should go to bed. Usually you'd wait for his return, make some coffee and listen to his stories - but given your current sentiments, it was for the better to postpone this until a good night's sleep returns your common sense.

Just when you had snug under the blanket, a faint noise from the other room makes you jolt up again. "That damn cat..." you think, staring through the door into the pitch black room - but then you see something that makes your stomach turn.

The window stood wide open, and you were 100% sure you had never opened it today. It was the midst of winter, after all. Come to think of it, you remember letting the cat outside in the garden hours ago.

"So you're really still awake."

You shriek at the unexpected grim voice, only now noticing the tall silhouette hiding in a dark corner of the room. When did this person enter, how, and especially why?

Since you got no means to defend yourself with, you decide the best step of action is to turn on your bedside lamp and make out the intruder.

"Anderson...?" You tilt your head to the side, visibly confused. In an instant, all of your tension disappears into thin air. "What are you doing in here? How improper, even for your standards."

His lack of reaction made you uneasy, but he did have a lot of weird mannerisms. You got used to them over time.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, narrowing your eyes at the man. Usually, he found your pitiful attempts at scolding him rather cute than anything, but that wouldn't stop you. "Would you mind waiting outside so I can get dressed in dignity?"

Instead of answering, he cackled. Not his usual, weird but heartfelt laugh, no - he burst out in an insane fit that was almost intimidating if you didn't know him any better. "No, that won't be necessary."

Something was off, you could feel it.

And where is that trademark accent of his?

While you trusted Father Anderson with your life, it could be kind of creepy when he didn't snap out of his rush of the hunt. You especially didn't want the children to see him this way.

"Hey, Anderson" you coo, approaching him like one would a rabid animal. "I'll make you some tea to calm you down. How'd you like that?"

"So delightfully naive" he eventually spoke, firm steps menacingly stepping into the dim light. "I'm going to enjoy this."

You gasped when your eyes met his, but instead of the usual icy blue staring back at you were crimson red irises.

A demonic possession.

Immediately your mind started racing. What happened? How is that even possible?

...and why is he here of all places?

Dread creeps up your consciousness as your imagination conjures countless atrocities, all committed by the man you believed to be indomitable.

"You know" as if the fiend could read your thoughts, he started explaining. "He has an exceptionally strong will...but I knew it'd be worth wringing out his mind to find you."

"M-Me?" you wanted to distract him, reaching for the rosary around your neck - Anderson once gifted it to you for protection. Maybe if you ram it somewhere... "But why-"

"Shh..." In an instant he leaped towards you, one palm harshly cupping your mouth as the other tore the wooden ornament apart. On it's stead he wrapped his long fingers around your throat, the lack of oxygen making you dizzy. "I like the feisty ones, but you shouldn't try anything funny. We won't want to wake the children, don't we?"

No. NonononoNO! Not the children. Please. Anything but them.

"Don't worry, sweetheart..." The familiarity of his voice hurt. It was smooth and sweet as honey, just as you knew it. But his actions were the exact opposite. "If you behave, they'll get to live. I don't have enough time for both, you know? And you're my priority."

The man wearing Anderson's face had you pinned against the wall, a knee prying open your legs and nestling high up between your thighs. You feel his tongue slide across your chin up to your cheeks, savouring the taste of your tears. A strangled sob fills the room, but you needed to stay strong. For the kids. For Anderson.

"Father, please..." you hiccup, and he increases the pressure to your neck just enough to be uncomfortable. "Oh, you want to play Priest and Harlot huh? I like that."

You kick your feet in the air, but to no avail - and your struggle only excites him further. "Anderson! You need to fight it! I know you're still in there!"

"Oh, he sure is" the demon taunts in amusement, "Watching, hearing, feeling" he emphasizes the last word with a squeeze of your sides, "Everything I do to you will be as if he did it himself. So let's give him a show, shall we?"

You shiver.

"Too bad you can't hear him scream." He grins manically as he taps against his forehead. "The undefeated executioner begging me to spare you. Delightful."

"Why-" You wanted to ask why he chose you, but were dreading the answer. "Why are you doing this?"

The demon shrugged. "I may be unable to defeat him, but I can hurt him in other ways. Through you."

He lifts you up as if you weight nothing at all, harshly tossing you onto the mattress. You squeal and writhe as he climbs on top of you, his weight suffocating. He balls a fist in your hear, janking your head up and forcing you to look at him. "See, I'm an Incubus. You know what that is?"

Of course you do. Given time you learned a lot about the different otherworldly species. It's a male-presenting demon that mates with innocent women and eventually kills them afterwards.

The thought should terrify you, but the only thing present in your mind is that they are nocturnal, and it's already close to dawn. So if you drag this out, he definetly wont be able to harm anyone else.

You need to endure whatever he does to you. You owe this to Anderson.

"Maybe I should kill you while I'm at it?" One of the ceremonial bayonets is suddenly pressed against your throat, enough to draw blood without breaking the skin too severely. The scent makes him groan, and soon the sting of the blade was replaced by the ache of his teeth sinking in your neck. "Mhh...no" he licks the liquid from his lips, "It'll be way more rewarding to know he'll have to look into your eyes every single day after what I make him do to you."

The demon sure takes an agonizingly long time, using the bayonett to cut off the buttons of your nightgown but growing impatient and tearing it apart with his bare hands.

You bite hard on your bottom lip when you hear your underwear get torn with a snap, but he pries your hands away each time you try to shield yourself from his piercing glare.

"You know" he speaks between gritted teeth, using them to pry off his gloves. His hands are cold and calloused, touch sending a shiver down your spine. "It's only so easy for me because he wants it."

Goosebumps rose on your skin as his fingers traced their way from your collarbone over your breasts and down to settle between your thighs. You furrow your brows in confusion, heart fluttering against your will but reminding yourself to not fall for his cheap tricks.

"Don't believe me, eh?" he chuckles darkly, continuing his monologue. "If only you knew how often your so-called holy father has touched himself while thinking of you- oh yes you did!" He seems to speak to the man trapped inside of his own mind and you can't help but feel bad for Anderson despite your own situation.

"So what?" you snap back at the fiend, "Shut up and do what you must. But I believe in the Paladin. He will definetly send you back straight to hell, sooner or later!" Your gaze then softens as you adress your dear friend. "Anderson, it's alright...whatever he says or does, don't blame yourself. I won't."

That made your assaulter's eyes widen in realization. "Oh...you're in love with him, aren't ya?"

Silence.

"Such a little whore" he deduces at your lack of an answer, "Trying to seduce a priest...and for him to be corrupted that easily? Pathetic."

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, but couldn't grasp the words that crossed your mind. Not that it'd be any help to your situation either way.

"Don't you want to confess? That'd be fun." You frantically shake your head, the little defiance you could allow himself, but he still had the upper hand nonetheless. "Do it or I'll kill you with his bare hands."

"...forgive me, father."

"Forgive me father aaaand?" he mocks playfully as he settles between your legs. You swallow harshly, tears dwelling in your eyes. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned."

"Good girl" he breathed in your ear, and hearing those words in Anderson's voice involuntarily sends a wave of arousal straight to your core. "Now to your punishment."

"P-Please-" all of your earlier fight left you when you saw him unzip his pants. His cock was proportional to his inhuman size, which both astonished and worried you. "Its too big, it won't fit."

"Well, sadly the bible forbids any foreplay, so no prep for you. Don't wanna go out of character, yes?" You lash out at him, try to push against his chest, but he is way too strong.

Just pretend it's him, just pretend it's him...

You arch your back to adjust to his lenght, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the sensation of pushing into you.

And then he stills - when he sees you bleed.

"Don't tell me you're-"

"Yes" you answer truthfully, something deep inside of you hoping that it might help Anderson to regain control again. "I am- was untouched..."

However instead of snaping Anderson our of it, the demon's eyes haze even deeper with lust. "Today's my lucky day, it seems! Don't worry, unlike your friend here I'm experienced. You should thank me."

His mouth twists to a terrifying grin when he adds "Ruining you will certainly break him, I'm sure."

There was no mercy in his pace, the way he was using you for his pleasure. It burned, sending every nerve on fire in a mixture of arousal and fear.

No matter how hard you fight it, no matter how wrong and twisted it may be, the man in front of you was still Anderson - so it didn't take long until your pleas and cries slowly but steadily turned into lewd moans.

"Yeah" he utters countless profanities in between animalistic sounds, "I knew you'd enjoy this, you little bitch. You were so wet for him before I even started."

Why does the abomination that tormented you have to wear the face of your beloved savior?

You bury your face into your hands, hiding away in shame at your body's natural reaction. But he fiercely grabs your wrists and pins them over your head. "Look. At. Me."

He put one hand under your navel, feeling himself bulge you from the inside. "The Paladin fantasized about putting a child into this womb" he stated gloatingly, enjoying the way your face drops in panic. "Should we make his wish come true?"

"N-No, don't-" And yet your legs already draped over his shoulders, making him enter you even deeper.

You claw at his back as he roughly pounds into you, and yet find yourself caressing the same spot you just attacked. He looked, sounded, smelled just like Anderson, and even though you could never be able to even scratch him, you didn't have the heart to fight.

Anderson shouldn't have to remember you suffering at his hands.

So instead your fingers rake through his hair, cracking a saddened smile as you reassure him, murmuring sweet affirmations his way. Soon you come undone, his name dropping from your lips like a sacred prayer. He finishes close after you, spilling as much as possible inside of your quivering folds.

You were so caught in the afterwaves of your orgasm that you didn't even notice the sun was raising on the horizon, the first rays threatening to brighten this darkest night.

"That sure was a treat" the demon spoke self-satisfied, "May we meet again."

He kisses you. Even that first time he stole from you, tainting the memory with his vile deeds. It is harsh and demanding, tongue entering your mouth just as violently as he had done before.

And then the tension in his body loosens, falling slack on top of you. His lips barely ghost yours now, careful and tender before he pulls away.

"A-Alexander?" It's the first time you're adressing him with his first name and if it wasn't for such a sorrowful occasion, he'd be able to enioy the way it sounded in your voice.

The red in his eyes had ebbed away, and now you're sure he's blinking back tears as he looks down at the aftermath, your trembling form beneath him. Face stained with tears, bites and bruises scattered across your body.

Wanting to give you space he almost stumbles from the bed, finally giving you the opportunity to cover yourself with the blanket. For a while, both of you just stared at each other in strained silence, but you could almost physically feel him spiral into despair.

"Father, are you-"

"I'll have the nuns come and tend to your wounds" he declares almost matter-of-factly, practically fleeing the scene.

That was the last you'd hear or see from him in a while.

They tell you that for a whole week, he would ram nails into his hands like stigmata to punish himself. He would mostly lock himself away in his room, and wouldn't talk except for citing concerning bible verses.

So far so in character. Anderson has always been melodramatic. But what really worries you is the fact that he apparently lets his duty slack. His priesthood means everything to him, you might even say he is fanatic.

[James 1:14+15]

"But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.

Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death."

A knock on your door breaks your pondering, and you call whoever it is inside. Even after this traumatizing experience you had refused to lock your door, your belief in Iscariot and Anderson unwavering.

Some visitors would be a welcomned distraction, since the nuns refused to let you go to work again already. You weren't really injured besides for minor cuts and bruises, yet they insisted you allow your spirit to heal just the same.

Quickly the room is swarmed by a hoarde of children, all surrounding the bed you had currently made yourself cozy to read in. You crack a warm smile and try to answer all of them, even though they were talking simultaneously out of excitement. They brought you selfmade sweets and drawings, telling you how worried they were and how much you were missed.

Despite the noise you make out another sound mingling from behind, and you quickly realized who those footsteps belonged to. The kids waved for him to come and he sheepishly entered, as always having to crouch to fit through the doorframe.

They had to practically drag him inside, several children tugging on the sleeve of his coat and pushing onto his back to make him come closer than the wall opposite to you he had chose to stay at.

"It's good to see you, father" you encourage him with some affectionate words, which he gladly reciprocated. "The same goes for you."

"We got some great news!" the orphans cheer in unison, "Father Anderson told us he had torn apart the demon that hurt you! And not only that, he gave it a long, excruciating demise!"

"Oh, is that so?" You quirked a brow at this choice of words coming from gradeschoolers. He likes to scare the younglings so they won't fall astray from their path, but you really need to have a word with him about age-appropriate storytelling. "That's...wonderful."

"We've implemented new precautions" Anderson reluctantly added after clearing his throat, still remaining a safe distance to not make you uncomfortable. "So something like...that won't happen again."

The Paladin's smile was solely to appease to the children, but it did not nearly reach his eyes. There was a profound sadness in them that made your chest narrow, and the dark circles under his eyes were evidence of worsened insomnia.

"I appreciate your hard work" you say, "And it was very considerate to not come alone."

"Not like I had a choice" he sighed, "The flock begged me to accompany them for days." That made you snicker. An enigma like him, unable to refuse his protégés any wish.

"Alexander Anderson!" a strict voice cut right through the commotion, making all of you flinch. "What did you even think coming here?"

The Reverend Mother was probably the only person that did not fear the Paladin - quite the opposite even. The man in front of her was still seen as the unruly child she once raised in this very orphanage.

"Please, Holy Mother, let it be" you assure her, "It's alright. I needed some interaction. It was refreshing, really!"

She shot him a look full of contempt, but surprisingly yielded. "Come, children. It's close to bedtime and Y/N needs to rest."

"Stay" you ask firmly, as Anderson was just about to rush out with the others. "Let's talk. Please?'

For a while, he was rooted on spot, jaw clenching so hard one could hear his teeth about to crack. But then he turned around, every step towards you feeling like it takes an eternity. And while he seems composed on the outside, you could always detect the storm lying underneath.

Now that the children were gone, he allowed himself to let the mask slip - and you've never seen him so upset before, let alone regretful. Typically he doesn't care about collateral damage since his holy cause always justifies the means.

You smile up at him but he refuses to meet your eyes. "C'mon, take a seat."

Anderson's hands were neatly folded in his lap as he slouched down on the small stool by your bedside, the leather of his gloves creaking as he fondled with his thumbs. He was a perfect picture of misery like that, making himself as small as humanly possible and facing the floor.

For the first time, the priest had nothing to say. No witty advice, no bible quote, nothing.

How was he even supposed to tell you that it was never about carnal desire? It was so incredibly much more profound that only thinking about it made him painfully aware of the thorn his affection for you had struck into his heart.

"Do-" his bottom lip quivers with every syllable, "Do they know if you're with child?"

The question caught you off guard - the possibility of being pregnant was one of the things you had desperately tried to suppress those past few days. "Not yet" you state, against your best efforts unable to keep your voice from shaking. We'll find out in about two weeks."

That answer is enough for the dam to break down.

"I'm sorry, Y/N" he whines as he falls to his knees, face buried in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be." You sit up onto the edge of the bed, unsure what to do or say. There's nothing that could turn back time either way. So you decide to cup his face in your hands, thumb running across the scar on his cheek before tugging his head onto your lap.

In every other moment he'd roll his eyes at you and rant about how you interpret the bible terribly wrong, but right now he soaked in your words like a plant in the desert.

"Cum peccato tibi odium esto, sed dilige peccantem."

(Lat. 'Hate the sin, but love the sinner'.)

"I have no right to ask for your forgiveness" he tries to repel the temptation of just cradling you in his arms, but you quickly deflect as well. "It's not up to you if I'll grant it to you. Father-"

"Don't call me by this title" he interrupts, "Lust is a cardinal sin, and I...defiled you. I am not worthy of carrying it anymore." It pained you to see him suffer for a sin he didn't commit, blaming himself because of an infatuation he never meant to act upon. "Punishing yourself won't change anything. I don't want you to forsake everything because of someone like me..."

"I will, and it is already decided." You blink in confusion, trying to make sense of his words. "I asked Maxwell to officially relieve me of my position. I'll stay the church's loyal servant and continue my work against the forces of darkness...but only like this I'm able to marry you."

That was certainly the last thing you expected him to say, the bewilderment knocking all air out of your lungs. You looked at him like a deer in the headlights, but he made a placating gesture. "Not like that, woman. It's solely to preserve your honor. We don't need to consummate, and you won't have to see me ever again."

As insane as he is, there is method to his madness. Anderson is very aware of his shortcomings, seeing himself as nothing but a beast that caged itself through religion. He always knew that in the end he was no better than the sinners he forced to repent.

But now that he got a taste of what comes closest to heaven, he is horrified by those haunting memories - because he finds himself enjoying parts of them, appeasing to some of his depraved fantasies.

It is not safe for you to be around him anymore. He needs to send you away, somewhere he can never find you.

"But..." you sniveled and he finally looks at you, "But I want to stay here! With the children, with you!" In your exasperation you tackle hug him, clawing at the hem of his shirt. "This is my home, you are my home! I don't want to go!"

His arms only hover over your shaking body, retracting each time he reaches out for an embrace. You on the other hand cling onto him for dear life, afraid that he'll disappear forever if you let go.

"I love you" you whisper ashamed, "I love you, Alexander. Please don't leave me."

Anderson barks out a bitter laugh at the irony of fate, of him mocking the lord by refusing to believe that even the darkest moment could be a blessing in disguise.

Eventually, his arms wrap around you.

It was not the first time that this body has touched you, but the first time he did. And it was so different, so meek and careful, as if you were something delicate, made out of glass.

"It is not easy to put into words what I never allowed myself to feel" he confesses, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent. You nod slowly against his chest, humming understandingly.

"Everything the demon said, it was true. I catched myself watching you from the windowsill, admiring you from afar. I wrote you letters, poems, each time I was on a mission. Threw them into the fire. It helped grounding myself. But those emotions always came back stronger."

"I love you" you're willing to repeat as often as he needs to hear, "I love you, Alexander Anderson." Maybe he knew all along.

The former priest can't help but remind himself of the Book of Job - tested by god through disaster, yet rewarded for his preservance in the end. Now it's his turn to press you even closer against him, placing a soft kiss on your temple as he slowly accepted this twist of fate he still felt most undeserving for.

"God surely works in mysterious ways."