#it was a GIF TOO just like image but slightly worse and slightly better at stucking in your head

[its-avalon-08]

Hi. I was thinking of something with Lando Norris where Lando has been secretive and hiding his phone and everything and reader thinks he's cheating on her and feels miserable thinking she's not enough. And when she asks Lando about it he feels extremely guilty because he was actually planning to PROPOSE!!

new passwords and new surnames (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, miscommunication, tears, fluff

Y/N sat on the couch, her knees pulled to her chest as she absentmindedly scrolled through social media. Her heart wasn’t in it, not really. It hadn’t been for weeks now. She couldn't help but replay the small, almost imperceptible changes in Lando's behavior that had slowly eroded her peace of mind.

It started so innocently. One night, while they were lying in bed, she noticed Lando's phone screen light up with a notification. His hand shot out faster than usual to grab it, turning it face-down. He flashed her a smile, that easy-going grin she adored, but something was off.

"You okay?" she had asked then, her voice soft and questioning.

"Yeah, love. Just a text from the team. Nothing important." He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary as if to erase any doubt. But the doubt had settled in that moment and had been growing ever since.

Tonight, it was all too much. The weight of uncertainty sat on her chest like a heavy stone. She couldn’t ignore how distant Lando had been lately. He changed the password on his phone, something he hadn’t done in years. When they were out together, he'd tuck his phone away whenever she got close or make some excuse to leave the room to answer calls. He laughed it off when she asked why he was being so secretive.

And she wanted to believe him. Desperately. But each time, the gnawing ache in her gut got worse. She wasn't paranoid—she was trying not to be. But the constant second-guessing was eating her alive.

"What if he's seeing someone else?" The thought pierced through her mind, sharper and more painful every time she allowed it to surface. She hated herself for even thinking it, but she couldn’t stop.

Y/N blinked, her vision blurring as tears welled up. She swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself not to cry. Not yet.

She replayed another moment in her head. A few days ago, Lando had left for a race weekend. He’d been unusually flustered before leaving, fumbling around their shared apartment, misplacing his keys and wallet, which wasn’t like him. He barely looked her in the eyes when he kissed her goodbye, murmuring a quick, "Love you," before disappearing out the door. And later that night, when she texted him, he responded hours later with a vague, "Sorry, busy."

“Busy with what?” she whispered aloud to herself, the silence of the apartment engulfing her. Her mind filled with images of him with someone else—someone better, someone who wasn’t her.

She wasn’t enough, was she?

The thought felt like a punch to her gut. Maybe I’m not interesting anymore. Maybe he found someone who gets him better. Lando was famous, rich, and could have anyone he wanted. She wasn’t special. Not in the way some gorgeous model or influencer could be.

Y/N shifted on the couch, pressing her palms against her forehead, trying to stop the spiraling thoughts. I should ask him. No, I can’t. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s not cheating? The internal debate was killing her.

Suddenly, she heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door. Her stomach dropped. Lando was home.

He walked into the living room, looking tired but smiling at her, his blue eyes lighting up in that way that used to make her heart race. Now, all she felt was a deep ache.

"Hey, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Miss me?"

She nodded but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. Instead, she fixed her gaze on her hands, now trembling slightly in her lap. "Yeah. How was the day?"

"Busy as hell. Meetings, more meetings, and then training," he chuckled lightly. "I could use a beer."

She nodded again, offering a weak smile. "I'll grab it for you." She needed to move, to do anything to avoid this unbearable tension.

As she stood up, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Lando’s eyes darted to it, but his expression remained calm. He watched as she crossed the room to grab his beer from the fridge, her movements stiff and robotic. The distance between them felt like an ocean.

Her hands were cold when she handed him the drink, and for a moment, she debated whether to say anything. Should she ask him now? Her heart raced with anxiety as she stood awkwardly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt as though it could keep her from unraveling completely.

She took a shaky breath and finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lando… is there something going on? Something you're not telling me?"

He froze, his hand halfway to his mouth, beer bottle in hand. His eyes flickered with surprise, maybe even guilt, and that tiny moment of hesitation broke her. She saw it, clear as day.

“What do you mean?” His voice was cautious, like he was trying to tread lightly.

Y/N swallowed hard. “You’ve been so secretive lately. You’re hiding your phone, leaving the room to take calls. You changed your password… You—” her voice cracked, the vulnerability bleeding through. “You’ve never done that before.”

Lando set his beer down on the table, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker. “Y/N, no—”

“I can’t keep ignoring it!” she interrupted, her voice louder now, the emotion bubbling up uncontrollably. “I’m trying to be calm, I’m trying to trust you, but it feels like you’re hiding something from me! And I—” She paused, taking a sharp breath as tears threatened to spill over. “I keep wondering if… if I’m not enough for you anymore.”

Lando’s eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, he looked like he was about to say something, but she kept going.

“Am I losing you, Lando? Is there someone else? Because if there is, just tell me, okay? I don’t think I can take this anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

The tears finally slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away, frustrated with herself for breaking like this in front of him. But she couldn’t hold it in any longer. It had been eating her alive.

Lando stood frozen, his mouth slightly open as if trying to form words, but nothing came out. Guilt flooded his features, and Y/N’s heart shattered a little more seeing it.

She had been right all along, hadn’t she?

And now, she was about to lose him.

Chapter Two: The Unveiling

Lando took a step closer, his expression shifting from shock to concern as he reached out, brushing his thumb against her cheek to catch a tear. “Y/N, no… You’re everything to me. I would never cheat on you. I promise. It’s just…” He hesitated, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find the right words. “It’s just been a lot.”

She looked away, trying to compose herself, but the knot in her throat tightened. “Then why all the secrecy? Why the phone? I feel like I’m losing my mind here.”

His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath. “I know I’ve been distant, but please, let me explain. It’s not what you think. I’ve just been… planning something.”

“Planning what?” Her voice cracked, the confusion mixing with the hurt that had been building for weeks. “What could possibly require all this secrecy?”

Lando stepped back, taking her hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if grounding himself. “Y/N, I’ve been trying to plan the perfect way to ask you something. And I thought… I thought if I could surprise you, it would be amazing.”

Her heart raced. “What do you mean?”

He paused, his eyes shining with emotion. “I wanted to propose to you, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I thought I could keep it under wraps until the right moment. I was going to do it this weekend, and I’ve just been so caught up in making it perfect that I didn’t realize how my actions were affecting you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words. “You… you wanted to propose?”

“Yes!” Lando exclaimed, his voice a mixture of relief and excitement. “I love you, Y/N, and I want to spend my life with you. I just got so caught up in the planning that I forgot how important it is to communicate. I never wanted you to feel this way.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but the hurt still lingered. “But you were hiding things from me, Lando. It felt like you were pushing me away.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice earnest. “I was being an idiot. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but I ended up making everything worse.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I should have trusted you enough to share this with you. I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough, because you are everything to me.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his sincerity, but the tears still streamed down her face. “You’re really serious about this?”

“More than anything,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “You deserve to know how much I love you, and I should’ve told you sooner. You make me a better person, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Just as Y/N was beginning to comprehend the gravity of his words, Lando knelt down on one knee, taking a small velvet box from his pocket. Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized what was happening.

“Y/N,” he said, looking up at her with all the sincerity in the world. “Will you marry me? Will you be my partner in this wild life? I promise to never hide anything from you again. I want us to share everything, no more secrets.”

For a moment, time stood still. The world around them faded, and all that mattered was the two of them in this small living room filled with unspoken fears and newfound hope. She looked into his eyes, and all she saw was love—pure, unwavering love.

“I—” she began, her voice breaking as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “I thought I was losing you, Lando. I thought I wasn’t enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “You’re everything to me. So, what do you say?”

She blinked, her heart swelling as she finally let the reality of his proposal sink in. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Lando’s face broke into a huge smile as he slipped the ring onto her finger, a beautiful band that sparkled in the soft light. She gasped, lifting her hand to get a better look. It was perfect—simple, elegant, just like the love they shared.

“Really? You mean it?” he asked, rising to his feet, his eyes shining with joy.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, laughter spilling from her lips as she hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe you were hiding this from me!”

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, holding her close. “I’m so sorry for everything. I promise to do better.”

As they pulled away, she looked into his eyes, the weight of her earlier fears lifting. “Just promise me one thing, Lando.”

“Anything,” he replied, his gaze intense.

“From now on, no more secrets, okay? We talk about everything.”

“Deal,” he said, grinning. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you, love.”

With that, they embraced again, the tension that had filled their apartment melting away, leaving only the warmth of their love and the promise of a beautiful future together.

[purplestanleypinkblanket]

First Kiss With Logan:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you seek comfort from Wade who threw you a ‘Cherry Popped’ party. It ends up making you feel worse, which leads you into the arms of a man who’s grown fond of you. Logan.

Warnings: Kissing, talking about bad date, cursing, brief mentions of drinking, innuendos to "cherry popping", use of the word virgin. Self-deprecating talk in some areas, from both reader and Logan.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2,388

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You hated that you found yourself, seated across from a man who, frankly, hadn't asked you a single question about yourself all night. You also hated how much this man yapped. God, all he did was talk and talk without even the slightest breath. And you hated that you continued to stay seated. Perhaps you were too kind, or maybe you thought you had no right to leave. After all, the man was buying you dinner. It was hard to shake that kind of guilt. You knew you owed him nothing, that it's okay to leave a shitty date- but a part of you wondered if this was all you had going for you. A shitty date, with a shitty man on a shitty afternoon.

As you spaced out your thoughts drifted back to Logan, you wondered if dates with him were like this. What if they weren't? What if he was kind? Well, slightly kinder than normal. He didn't strike you as the pull-your-chair-out-for-you kinda guy, but you had a feeling he would ask you questions instead of yapping your ear off. Maybe he would ask about your day at work, or what you like to do in your free time. Possibly he'd like to hear funny stories about your family. No, that felt too intimate for a first date. Maybe on a third date you'd share those stories with him.

God, what are you even on about right now? You're on a date with a man buying you dinner and you're thinking about Logan! As your eyes looked over the man, you finally tuned back into what he was saying.

"My ex was fucking crazy! That bitch-"

Aaanndd, you lost interest immediately. The more this dude spoke, the more of a dick he sounded. You couldn't help but feel thankful when the date ended. However, the chime of your phone caught your attention during the walk back to your apartment.

'Hey, sugar tits.' Wade's text read. 'Come over, we're celebrating you getting your cherry popped!' That dick knew you weren't a virgin, he just wanted a damn reason to celebrate. What better way to celebrate then partying over your friend not getting laid? It was a cruel joke you really weren't in the mood for but the image of Logan blowing up balloons with Blind Al, a smile just barely tugging at his usually grumpy face...it was hard to say no too. And Wade knew that- its why he sent you the picture after all.

"Fucking dick." You murmured to yourself as you wrapped your cardigan around you tighter, pushing the front door to Wade's apartment open as you did so. The sight was ridiculous, balloons, streamers, wall decor, banners that read 'Pop That Cherry!' draped off the ceiling. You took a mental note to punch Wade in his smart-ass lip later. But, for now, it was nice being in the comfort of your friends. Yes, even the snarky teenager Negasonic and her girlfriend. You were a teenage girl once, but it still didn't stop you getting annoyed when she nitpicked your outfits. It isn't your fault baggy sweaters and legging were literally a godsent.

You trudged your way through the crowded apartment, hand adjusting your white sweater to cover the tank top under it a little better. As you approached Logan and Wade, you grew more aware of the length of your skirt. Was it too long? Too short? Would Logan think it looked good? God, why did you even care what Logan Howlett, labeled the worst wolverine, thought of you? You didn't think he was the worst wolverine. You'd never say it, of course not, because then he'd know you actually liked being around him! Perhaps it was selfish of you to keep yourself so guarded around him, but you couldn't shake the fear of letting down your walls and risking getting hurt. It was scary. Losing that much control. And over what, a feeling?

A hand extending towards you caught your attention, it was Logan, offering you a drink.

"Thank you." You spoke to him, voice quiet compared to the blaring pop music Wade was playing. He grunted in response, but you swear you heard a 'you're welcome.' You brought it to your lips, casually slow sipping the alcohol over the course of the night. It was fun to dance with Vanessa as Wade and Peter tried to convince Logan to join the group. You couldn't help the laugh on your lips when Wade made a snarky comment about Logan's panties being in a twist, earning a threatening unsheathing of claws from logan. You never fully understood the shame Logan felt, even though you tried incredibly hard to. To you, he was amazing, he was strong, he was...well, to say you only admired him would be a lie.

You wished you could show Logan the way you saw him, the way the world saw him. Sure, he was hot, unnecessarily hot, with large biceps and shoulders that went for days. But he was more than that. He was a grump who pushed people away out of fear of hurting them. And to prevent himself from getting hurt. It was ironic, really. Perhaps you and him were more alike than you thought. After a while in the overstimulating party, you slipped away, moving to stand on the balcony. You hadn't been there long, probably thirty minutes? It was nice, listening to your friend's party as you took a break to look at the city.

"Thought I'd find you here." Logan's rough voice spoke as he walked out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

You hummed in response, flashing him a smile as you looked away. Logan could feel his heart skip a beat at your smile- it was always nice when you graced him with it. He'd give anything to see you smile. Hell, he wished he could make you smile and laugh the way Wade and Vanessa did. They matched your morbid sarcastic humor easily. Something he struggled to do. He approached you, leaning onto the railing beside you.

"Congrats on the...uh..."

"I'm not a virgin."

"Oh..."

The silence was awkward between you. You had to purse your lips to prevent you from bursting out in a laugh. You found it hilarious how just one statement suddenly made him go quiet.

"Wade had-" You spoke, trying to stifle your laugh with your hand. "Wade thought it would be funny to throw a 'cherry popped' party because it's been forever since my last date." You revealed, not able to contain your laugh any longer. "It's actually kinda sweet. In a weird way, ya know, Wades weird way." The corners of Logan's mouth lifted slightly at the sound of your laugh. It had always been his favorite sound after meeting you.

"Guess so." Logan contributed to the conversation, bringing the glass beer bottle to his lips. You looked at logan watching as he looked over the city, your eyes analyzing him. His jaw, his hair, the crow's feet by his eyes from his constant state of scowling. Maybe it was the liquid courage you had drank. Or you finally just decided to give Logan a sense of affection. You loved to shower your friends with affection, often times holding Wade as you two watched tv, or Vanessa sitting on your lap as you gossiped. Logan had seen it plenty of times. God, sometimes you even gave Peter affection. Each time he felt a twinge of jealousy, he wanted to be the object of your affectionate touches. Or the way you murmured praise directed at them after a task- he wanted that.

Your hand reached up, gently soothing out some strands of his beard that were in disarray. Logan tensed under your touch, and you immediately pulled away, guilt and embarrassment swarming you.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You adamantly apologized, face heating up.

"Don't worry about it." Logan roughly said, silently regretting the way you withdrew so quickly. He watched as you tried to subtly put some distance between the two of you- the sting of rejection clear as day on your face. He hadn't meant to reject you; you were reading too much into it. His mind sidetracked as he looked away, maybe he was the one reading too much into it? "How was your date?" He settled on asking, bringing the beer to his lips.

"Shitty." You sighed, frowning.

Logan nodded, waiting for you to continue. Silence falls between you two and he flashed you an expectant glance. You hadn't realized he wanted you to keep talking until he looked at you.

"Oh, uh, there isn't really much to say." You shrugged, looking away. "He didn't ask any questions, just talked about himself the whole time. Was super annoying too." Logan couldn't help the satisfaction that welled in his chest upon hearing your defeated words. It sucked for you, of course it did. But Logan was so glad the date was bad- that way no one could come in, sweep you off your feet, and away from him. He hadn't made a move on you, and he couldn't decide if he ever would. He didn't want to risk hurting you like he had done the others he cared for.

However, the glance of tiredness in your expression when you had looked at him momentarily...he hated it. He hated himself for being so happy your date was bad, and he hated that he wasn't the one you wanted to sweep you off your feet.

"Like...it isn't hard to make a girl feel special. To make her feel like a princess." You laughed with a shake of your head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just expecting too much?" You looked at Logan as you asked, a need for reassurance present.

Logan stared at you; brows furrowed as he analyzed you. The scowl on his features prominent. Believing you had said too much, or you annoyed him with your ramblings, an apology escaped your lips.

"Fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Princess." Logan's comment snapped you from your rushed apology. "Relax." He had taken that brave step closer to you, facing you fully as his side and arm holding the beer leaned against the balcony railing. He was glad you were comfortable enough to unload that on him and he was determined to keep it that way. "I don't mind." You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as your mind ran. That was another thing he liked about you. It was so easy to tell if you were thinking. Your eyebrows always furrowed, your lips pursed into a line, and your eyes always spoke a thousand words.

Despite his better judgement, his hand rose, gently flattening the skin between your eyebrows. The gesture was small, yet it held so much intimacy. You had always been picky about who could touch you. You loved to shower your friends with affection, but rarely ever let anyone reciprocate it back. Logan wondered why that was. What had affected you so much that you refused to let anyone even shake your hand. Here he was, though, thumb moving from the area between your eyebrows to his hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your throat dry. You had never expected this from him. This gentleness, the way he had observed your furrowed brows...you leaned your face into his hand, unable to help the way you melted into it. It was a chilly night, and, God, was he warm.

Logan closed the distance between the two of you, now standing directly in front of you. His thumb caressing your cheek. As he stared into your eyes, his gaze couldn't help but flicker down to your lips, a red faded stain on them from the lipstick you had worn to your date. They looked so soft, so enticing. And he couldn't help but wonder if that peppermint chapstick you wore 24/7 worked. He had never been one for chapstick, but you seemed obsessed with it. Logan's thumb slipped from where it rubbed your cheek to your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. You subconsciously licked your lips as he traced them, your chest tight. Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe? Your throat was beyond dry, your face paled under his gaze yet somehow it felt like your blush deepened. The way his eyes analyzed your lip, your eyes, your nose, that mark you had since you were a child...It was like he was memorizing you.

You wanted to say something, anything. Preferably something sarcastic and witty. No words came to your lips regardless of the fact that your mind was working overdrive. Time slowed as his thumb gently pulled your lip down, encouraging your mouth to part as his hand cupped your chin now, guiding you closer to him. He leaned down, face inches from yours. He paused there, however, waiting for your permission because he knew that you needed that variation of control to feel safe. He wanted to make you feel safe, he wanted you to know you were safe. That he had you. You brushed your lips against his, slightly closing that gap between you two. He took that as permission as he pressed his lips to yours fully. It was gentle at first, as if he was scared that at any moment you'd disappear. Or worse, break.

Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as you held onto him. His hands finally rested around your waist, the kiss growing stronger as he deepened it. People claim that you would feel fireworks during a kiss, but that wasn't the case at all. You felt electricity against your skin that was against him, but the most powerful feeling was how right it felt. Like you were meant to be there, in his arms, kissing him, holding him. He had broken the kiss, opening his eyes to stare at you.

Logan wondered if he'd ever be able to let another person get close to him. He was certain Wade would've been the only one- a victim of the circumstance's kind of thing. But he sure as hell was glad that today he was the one who held you attention as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[redskull199987]

What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?

Lifeless Stars

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...

Masterlist

You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets. 

And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.

Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.

 ‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.

So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.

The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.

With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.

A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.

“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”

You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.

“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.

“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”

You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.

With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.

With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

“Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.

“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal. 

“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”

“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”

Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”

You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.

“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.

Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.

“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”

Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.

“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”

Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.

In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.

“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.

“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.

Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,

“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed,  a smile now also on his face.

Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…

Bonus:

Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.

 You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.

But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.

[sapphossparenoterbook]

May I please request Agatha x reader where the reader has a really bad anxiety disorder, like so bad they can't even work a normal job outside the house. And Agatha comforts them telling them that she loves them regardless?

Anxious

Agatha Harkness x Reader

TW: An annoying child...

Today sucked. Badly. You hadn’t realised that you’d run out of your anxiety meds until Agatha had already left the house for work. And then you were too nervous to call her and see if she had any free time during her break to go to the pharmacy and help you out with your shitty situation here. And even if you had the balls to call your girlfriend, you had about 10 important projects for work to finish up. At least working from home for your boring office job hasn’t backfired like everything else today.

By lunch, your day had slightly begun to get better. Agatha had made you your favourite lunch for you to find waiting for you in the fridge, your colleagues had emailed you to thank you for fishing your side of the project early so that they can get a head start on their reports, and you felt the pit of anxiety in your stomach slightly loosen at the easy-going atmosphere in your home. That was until Dottie, one of your neighbours, had knocked on the door and practically demanded you babysit her child for the evening while all but throwing the small girl into your hallway. 

Oh, god. This is bad. This kid was a brat and always was going to be, with a mother like Dottie teaching her everything she knows in how to be a spoiled little bitch. You’d been an eye witness of what happens when this little girl gets jealous of one of the other kids on the street for a new bike or toy they had, and had always managed to steer absolutely clear of this little demon child. 

And now here she sat, looking up at you with a pout and a mischievous look in her eyes, as if she was an apex predator that could smell your fear and was going to hunt you down in your own home. This very much felt like your favourite movie, Alien, had come to life specifically just to ruin your so far good day.

From this point, your anxiety wouldn't stop getting worse all day. You spent the rest of the day trying to finish more projects that you were sure really needed to be done early or your colleagues would be pissed, while also trying to keep this monster child calm by doting on her constantly. 

Agatha’s supply of chocolate ice cream was gone by two o’clock. Then there goes your supply of skittles you’d be saving for tonight. After that, all your sweet snacks were gone and the child was running in goddamn circles from a sugar high, and all of a sudden the image of Dottie banging on the door tomorrow because you’d given her child so much sugar that she hadn’t slept all night. 

“Just– just slow down!” You say, reaching out to gently grab the child’s arm before imaging her screeching and crying, telling everyone that you’d gripped her arm so hard you’d bruised her, causing the whole neighbourhood to never trust you around their kids. Ever. Okay, so maybe that’s not such a bad outcome… but still!

“Do you wanna watch some TV? Or… or a movie? I’ve got movies..!” You say, before rushing over to the shelf where you and Agatha keep all of your DVDs and BluRays, desperately looking through them for something much more PG than Goodfellas, and The Godfather, which would all probably get this kid’s annoying ass mother over the house in an instant. Just as you sift through the movies and find your old copy of Star Wars episode 4, the doorbell rings again, and you hope that it’s either Agatha or Dottie coming back to pick up her kid, and not another unwanted guest. Thankfully, when you open the door it’s both, and Agatha can tell by the look on your face as you open the door that you’re anxious and stressed, and need this kid out of the house instantly.

“Come on, honey! Grab all of your stuff, it’s time to go now!” Dottie calls to her daughter from the door, not even bothering to actually go and get her. Just as you turn around, you see the brat putting your Star Wars disc into her little unicorn backpack. “Uh, hold on a second… that’s mine, you can’t keep it sor–” 

“BUT YOU GAVE IT TO ME, YOU SAID I COULD WATCH IT! MUUUUUMMM, SHE’S YING, SHE’S LYING, SHE’S LYING–” You instantly flinch back as the brat begins to scream and shout, anxiety building that everything you’d imagined was about to come true, and her mother would shift the blame onto you rather than her lack of parenting skills. Before anyone can say anything, you rush away, off into your home office and locking the door behind you. 

For a long time, you sit in your office, spinning your chair and curling up into a tight ball, trying to ignore the sounds of Dottie shouting at Agatha over the Star Wars disc, and the sense of dread that it’s all your fault, and that you should’ve just noticed you were running low on meds earlier in the week so that this fucking bullshit wouldn’t have happened. You think Agatha is going to be mad at you, and that it’s going to spiral into something big, but somewhere under all your anxiety is the knowledge that Agatha would never do that to you. She hasn’t done it before, and she won’t now, and deep down that is pretty clear by the way she’s fighting like her life depends on it over a Star Wars disc that is very easily replaced.

“That’s not the goddamn point, Dottie!” You hear Agatha shout. “It’s not about the DVD! It’s about the fact that you’re teaching your daughter to just ransack my house and take whatever she wants! So yeah, I want the disc back!” She then pauses, and Dottie must have said something in her quiet but demeaning tone in that pause, because then Agatha’s loud shouts start back up again. “My girlfriend does have a job! She’s not just some housewife for you to drop your kids off at when you can’t be bothered to teach them manners–she works from home, she shouldn’t have to stop what she’s doing in the day just to dote over your brat! If you drop her off like that again, we’re telling your husband that he needs to pay for a babysitter. Not just for your kid, but for you too.” 

The front door slams, and through your slightly open window you hear Dottie’s entitled “Oh, how rude!” from outside, clearly trying to get the other neighbours attention and ruin their opinion of Agatha. But they all know the drill, no one gives Dottie the time of day anymore, which may be why she dropped her kid, Lottie, off at your house and not one of the other neighbour’s, clearly she’s out of options. You make sure to close your window too, and take a few deep breaths before you hear Agatha knocking at your office’s door.

“Baby, are you okay in there? It’s been a rough day, huh?” Agatha’s soft voice calls from behind the door, a stark contrast to the rough toe she’d used with Dottie and her child. “Do you wanna talk about it, or shall I leave you be for a little bit so you can gather your thoughts..?” 

You get up and unlock the door, and open it to see Agatha already looking down at you with a worried look in your eye. 

“Aw, hon… you look like a soggy puppy…” Agatha says, and you turn your head to the mirror in the hall and stare at your own face looking back at you. Wide, sad puppy dog eyes. A little pout on your lips, tense furrowed eyebrows, and a wobbly chin as you try not to cry. 

“No I don't, I just look stupid and sad…” You practically whine out your words like a toddler, overwhelmed with anxiety and stress, and Agatha’s lips move into a slightly pursed smile as she instantly clues in on what's gone on. 

“I checked your pill box after Dottie and that annoying brat left… Why didn’y you call me and say you needed some more, love? I could have easily gone to the pharmacy and got some more for you during your break, you know Jen always keeps them in stock just in case we’re unprepared…”

“I didn’t wanna bother you… I was worried you were too busy, and my call would’ve annoyed you or somethi–” Agatha stops you right there with her finger, making a shushing motion on your lips. 

“Honey, I’d never be annoyed at you just for asking me for help, and I wasn't even that busy today anyway, it was a real doozy actually…” 

You feel a sense of insecurity rising up in your chest, that and stupidity. Of course you could ask your girlfriend to do that for you! Why did you think differently for even a second?! For god's sake, you always do such stupid things that just make the situations so much worse all because you can’t handle your own goddamn feelings when it comes to slightly stressful stuff like this, for god's sake–! 

“Hey, hey, hey… where did your head go?” Agatha asks, gently holding your face in both of her hands and making you look into her eyes. 

“I… I just feel so stupid over this. Why didn’t I just tell you? For God’s sake, could’ve avoided all of this…” 

“Honey, it’s not your fault that you ran out of your meds. Normally we’re both so on top of getting your prescription on time, it’s not your fault that we were both too busy to notice, honey.” Agatha said, and gently drops her hands down to your wrists, and pulls you out of your office and back into the living room of your house, setting you on the couch next to her. 

“Here, much more relaxing than in that cramped office of yours.” 

You practically mould into Agatha’s side as you snuggle into her, and she rubs your back gently. “So, what happened? Aside from that annoying brat ransacking the house…” 

“Mmm, no… that was pretty much it. I was doing pretty well actually, got most of my work done early until Dottie came and ruined it all…” 

You take in a deep breath, and try to ease the insecurity in your chest. 

“Now I’m a little behind on my usual schedule, and my boss wouldn’t reply to my emails so it’s almost like he knows, and I feel so stupid because all I had to do was tell Dottie that I was too busy and I couldn’t even do that! How am I supposed to do my job if I can’t even say no to an annoying neighbour! And not only that, but I’m really stressed about having to go into the office next week for that meeting, and I’m too scared to ask them to do it over a zoom call or something for me, I just feel like such a burden–”

“Okay, woah, honey I’m gonna stop you there. I understand that you’re stressed about this, but you know just as well as I do that your boss and all of your colleagues love you! They’ve been so, so supportive about this for you, and they can’t even say you have to go into the office if they want to because they’ve said it themselves that you work so much faster when you work from home. Also, no one in the whole street can ever say no to Dottie. She doesn’t even let people speak while she gets them to do stuff, and when it comes down to it you know that the whole neighbourhood prefers you over Dottie.” 

Agatha pauses, and moves your head again so that you’re once again looking eye to eye. She stares down at you for a second with a little goofy smile on her face, before giving you a soft kiss on the lips and slowly pulling away, before kissing your nose too. 

“And besides… I love you regardless, and nothing’s gonna change that. Not even if Dottie comes over here saying you… killed her kid, or something.” 

You snort, “Well I’m not gonna do that… but that definitely says something about you more than it does me.”

Molly pauses, and looks back up at Agatha. “Are you sure, though? I mean… what if I screwed something up so bad that–” 

“Hey, no! That’s not how this is going to go, okay? I care about you, and I love you too much to just… flip a switch like that because we both forgot to grab your prescription yesterday. I promise you, your anxiety isn’t something that stops you from being like everyone else, everyone has things about themselves that they need to work around to be more like the person they wanna be. And I really don’t think your anxiety is one of those things you’re going to have to work around, I think you’re perfect as you are already, and no one is going to be able to change that. Not for me, at least.” 

Today sucked. Badly. But sitting here next to Agatha, in this little bubble of love and care, it doesn’t seem all that bad.

[thecameronchronicles]

Sunkissed

TW: mentions of self image issues. Angst. Heavy flirting.

SUMMARY: JJ reminds you just how beautiful he knows you are.

REQUESTED:

Anonymous Asked

Hey sooo glad ur back ☺️⭐️💗💛 idk if u take request but I love ur body positivity fics could u maybe write one with JJ and chubby reader ??☺️☺️:)))

Sunkissed

"Maybe you should just go without me..." You try to hide the disappointment in your own words but it weighs them beyond the attempt. Your eyes fall and yet JJ comes up behind you, lips on your shoulder as it worsens the tightness in your heart.

"Did you get too hot on the Pogue, princess?"

"No...I..."

"Do you need some water? Here..." He offers his and your chest tightens. Not once has your boyfriend ever made you question your worth in the curves of your figure. But being surrounded by those that are a stark contrast to that society claims you should be, you feel inadequate.

"What is it sweetheart?" He asks a hand to your waist as you shuffle away without drawing immediate attention. You pretend to need something from the cooler although the diversion only makes you feel worse when you look over your shoulder and see JJ setting his hand over his chest, a telltale sign his own anxiety was getting the best of him.

"Are you...happy?" You move quickly to him.

"You make me the happiest I've been been, JJ-"

"So if you aren't dumping me and you know I'm crazy about you, why are you acting so...distant?" He steps closer, taking your hands in his. The warm comfort, slightly calloused from the odd jobs to make ends meet, it makes you exhale in the remembrance he matters more than the thoughts in your head. It's the laughter of Sarah Cameron and Kiara Carrera that make you compare yourself again.

He slowly nods before taking your hand and leading you into the Chateau.

"JJ-"

"What is it? I wanna hear you say it."

"J-"

"Y/N. Tell me." You stand in his room, the one practically gifted to you and him by John B as you linger.

"I just...don't wanna be around them in my swimsuit."

"Good."

Your eyes water and your brows fall.

"I don't want you in your swimsuit around anyone else either. I don't want them to see how smooth and beautiful your skin is or the shape of your-" he bites his back teeth. "I have to constantly remind myself to be better for you because better is what you deserve, princess, but it takes everything I have to not either mark up your skin with my teeth and leave proof you belong to me or punch out the lights of any guy-or girl- that looks at what's mine."

"JJ..." You shake off the thought as you know his kindness has always been that. Kind. You worry being with you is a novelty. A kink even. And even if he's tender and rebellious, passionate and eager, you're worried it'll fade with either summer or the fade of interest.

"You wanna know something? I am not going to say I don't care about your body because honestly it makes me hard as hell. But what really makes me just..." He sighs, repressing something between desire and the need to prove, as he takes a step closer to you.

"What really makes me love you is that you look at me. Not through me. Not to judge me. You go along with all my jokes and pranks, you were there when everything with my dad-" he paused, you step closer when you see how it effects him.

"You know when to be strong and when to let me do that for you. You touch me and I feel like I can't control my hands...or my eyes- my mouth. I want you. I love you. But if I'm being completely honest, Y/N. What I want right now? Is you out of this swimsuit. You're right. You shouldn't wear it. Because it makes me fucking crazy and I'm already one day closer for being committed for it."

You stand in awe, his words poetic for someone who insists you read him the books he gets too bored to even try and crack open. You hate how he doesn't apply himself for what he's capable of and yet you set to prove it in how you support him everyday.

"JJ-"

"I mean it, sweetheart. I'll beg if I have to. But suit. Off." You swallow hard as he closes the door and you understand one thing as his eyes darken in lust.

Before him you were swallowed by the darkness of your insecurities. Being with JJ is like being beneath the sun. Touched and basking in its rays, you forget the worries outside of it. You are kissed by the sun, loved by it- by him. You feel the strength of his love in every touch and the confirmation of his desire by the hold of his eyes on you in any distance when you aren't in his arms.

There is no question of love. And for the days you cannot feel that for yourself, JJ reminds you every reason why you will.

One sunny kiss at a time.

MASTERLIST

[j2hoes]

Police Cars And Paintings. (Wally Clark x Reader)

Summary: Wally helps Y/N get her justice.

Word count: 2,593

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings - Murder? Swearing.

“Y/N Y/L/N was loved by all, caring, supportive and kind are just three words that her family and friends used to describe the young woman whose life was so tragically cut short at the age of seventeen. Y/N was a senior at Split River high school, with hopes of attending New York Fashion School, in order to pursue her dreams of studying fashion design. She was the valedictorian with a passion for the arts. We learn today that her body was discovered in the school’s art room, with multiple stab wounds to her  neck, chest and stomach. Police believe the attack was premeditated and to remain vigilant as her killer is still yet to be caught.”

Letting out a pained scream, I launch the tv remote directly at the screen in front of me, causing the image to shift and blur before settling into a dull, gray static. Feeling multiple pairs of eyes on me, I grip my hair, tugging slightly to feel the tightness in my skull as a way to relieve the emotional pain weighing me down.

“Hey, let’s not do that okay. It won’t help you.” Wally tells me, gently grabbing my arms and forcing them down as he wraps his arms around me in a comforting hug. Well as best as he can leaning from behind the sofa.

“Are we not gonna talk about the fact that she just broke the tv? She’s ruined movie night for everyone.” Rhonda complains, eyes shooting daggers at me.

“Like you even care about movie night. There’s other TV's in this school, we’re not gonna miss one.” I snap back, rage still coursing through my body. “At least your murderer was caught.”

Rhonda scoffs, turning to look at Mr Martin, who has remained oddly silent, as she slips her lollipop back into her mouth. Mr Martin simply shares a disapproving glance, not impressed by either of our actions or comments though he still remains silent. Not wanting to make the tension in the room any worse. It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife, cliche I know.

“At least you know who did it, that’s got to count for something and I’m sure the police will work it out soon enough. I mean, they already know that it was a planned attack.” Charlie comments, hoping to make me feel a little better, yet I still feel just as bad. If not worse than moments prior.

“Yeah and he’s still walking about school as though nothing happened! The cops don’t give a shit Charlie, I’m already dead, it’s not like anything worse is going to happen to me that they have to worry about.”

Wally’s embrace relaxes as he stands up straighter, arms falling to his side, causing me and everyone else in the room to turn and look at him. A serious expression is settled upon his face, an unusual sight as he is normally sporting a soft smile or at least a playful lightness in his eyes.

“Wait, the guy that did this goes to school here? He’s still here?” Wally asks, his questions directed at me as though nobody else is even in the room. Clearly something has rattled him.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m so pissed off. I still have to see him every single day and there’s no escape. Not even in death I get peace.”

With a huff, I push myself off the sofa. Forcing a smile at the group as I make my exit, the moment I step out of the gym I start running. Sprinting as fast as I can to the other side of the school before climbing up the stairs to the rooftop. The art room used to be my quiet place, where I would find myself able to relax and feel at ease. Not anymore. So, the roof is my quiet place now. After moving all of my art supplies here, I’ve found that there’s no reason for me to even step foot in the art room anymore. It’s been a month and it’s still too painful to be in there.

Picking up my paintbrush and dipping it into my paint to continue the mural I have been working on, I hear another pair of footsteps lightly jogging up the stairs. I know it’s Wally, I don’t even need to turn around to know it’s him. Ever since I arrived in this world, he’s been my rock. Helping me get through everything and it’s safe to say that in the short amount of time I’ve known him, he’s found a special place in my heart. It’s not a crush. I swear it’s not a crush. I just happen to have a soft spot for him.

“Holy shit. I knew you liked art but this is insane, why have I never seen this?”

Wally’s stare is glued to the mural I’ve painted, each ghost gazing back at him from their position on the wall. Rhonda’s trademark moody stare, Charlie’s sweet but somewhat shy smile, even Dawn’s curiosity shines through in her chestnut brown eyes. I watch as he notices himself. A proud smile resting on his lips. Wally was the most difficult to paint, I wanted to make sure I captured his beauty properly, though that tends to be very hard to do when someone is physically perfect.

“You even got my necklace, Y/N this looks so real. Like you’re so talented, this belongs in a gallery or something.” Wally continues, brushing his finger down the side of his painted face, still in awe.

“It’s still a work in progress. I haven’t even started on Mr Martin, or the band kids or the girl in the theater whose name I always forget.” I tell him, swatting his hand away from the wall before he smudges any paint that may still be wet.

“Yeah, but do you really want them on there? Mr Martin sure, but the others, they never show up to the support group. You should keep it contained, no? You haven’t even painted yourself yet.”

“That’s kind of rude Wally. I painted Dawn and she never comes to the group, but she’s my friend.” I tell him, placing my paintbrush down and beginning to walk over to the rail at the edge of the roof. “We’re all dead, we deserve some sort of memorial.”

Leaning against the rail, I watch the kids below living their lives as normal. As though nothing is wrong, as though I wasn’t just murdered a month ago. God, if they knew this is what happens after death, they’d be terrified.

The football team are running drills on the field, accompanied by the cheerleaders who are going over the same routines. Students sit in the bleachers, either reading or making notes as they study. Occasionally laughing together as they discuss the latest gossip or show each other something they’ve seen on social media. It’s a peaceful scene, watching as they stress over things so trivial, things that won’t matter in ten years time.

“How come you never told me that the guy who killed you still goes to this school? I knew he hadn’t been caught but I assumed that’s because was on the run or something.” Wally asks me, leaning with his back against the rail so that he can watch me rather than the school.

“I don’t know. I try to avoid him and I know how nosey the rest of that group are, especially Rhonda. No doubt you’d all be following him around the school like a bunch of creeps.”

“Yeah but that’s just because we care about you.” Wally nudges me as he speaks, trying to get me to smile, which proves to be very easy as I make eye contact with him.

My heart flutters, making me nervous as I stare up at him. Wally’s height would intimidate me if I didn’t know how much of a big softie he was. I truly don’t think there is a bad bone in his body, he breaks the stereotypical idea of what a jock is. Charming and popular, sure, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Feeling his hand touch my chin, my smile grows wider as it gently moves to cup my cheek. His other hand combs through his hair, a nervous trait of his. Something I picked up on a while back, it doesn’t happen often because Wally isn’t one for getting nervous. He opens his mouth slightly, about to ask something. However, before he can my eyes catch sight of something on the field below.

“That’s him.” I point out, a flash of disappointment crosses his face before he removes his hand and turns to see what I’m looking at.

Harry Cole, clad in a dark hoodie is walking by the side of the field, heading straight to the art block. His pace is quick, almost like he’s in a rush and it’s the most panicked I’ve seen him since my death. Clearly something’s happened, a breakthrough in the investigation maybe? Police hot on his tail. Whatever it is, I need to know.

“That’s the dickhead that killed you?” Wally asks, scowling now as he takes him in.

“Yeah, come on, he’s up to something.”

Without even a second thought, I grab Wally’s hand, taking off in a slight run in order to catch whatever Harry’s up to. Wally’s gripping my hand in a firm hold, as if he’ll lose him if he lets go, thumb gently tracing circles into my skin despite us running.

Upon entering the art room, I immediately see Harry at the sinks, furiously scrubbing at something. Sharing a confused glance with Wally, I slowly approach him. I know he can’t see me and yet I’m still worried that I’ll disrupt him and spook me off, leaving me with no answers.

The closer I get the stronger the smell of bleach is, and then I finally see what he is cleaning. Butcher knife gleaming under the bright white lights, I spot the specks of blood still coating the handle and I know he’s trying to remove any evidence. Gloves adorn his hands in an attempt to mask his fingerprints. A silent tear rolls down my cheek at the thought of him never getting caught.

Wally’s arm wraps around my shoulder delicately. “You don’t need to see this.”

To my surprise, I don’t fight with him as he gently escorts me out of the room. I make no noise as I let the tears fall down my cheeks and I know Wally sees. Yet, he stays quiet. Not wanting to further upset me. He helps me to sit down on the old sofa that resides on the roof. With his hands on my knees he crouches in front of me, a concerned look on his face.

“You’ll be okay Y/N. I promise.” He tells me, words soothing my pain little by little. “Look I’ve got to run somewhere but I will be back so fast. I swear.”

Nodding my head gently, he presses a soft kiss to my forehead before dashing off to wherever he needs to be. Allowing me to wallow in my pain. The more days that pass, the more I feel as though justice isn’t possible. The more I feel like Harry will get away with everything.

Curling up into a ball, I allow my emotions to take over. Wails audible and body shaking with anger and sadness. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I don’t understand how the others do it. They’ve been dead longer but surely they still feel the pain and anguish of being dead. Surely they must be hurting too.

I’m brought back to reality by the sounds of sirens, I’m not sure how long I was sat consumed in my sadness but I know that Wally is standing by the rail. Watching whatever it is that is taking place below. The sirens ring through my ears and I jump up to stand beside him, his arm instantly wrapping around me despite no words being said.

Police cars fill the car park, grabbing the attention of pretty much everyone in the near vicinity. Students stand in shock at the commotion being caused. Each window is filled with faces, eager to bear witness to what is happening outside. Wally’s arm squeezes my shoulders, a show of encouragement and support. I swear if he wasn’t by my side, physically holding me up with the arm that is wrapped around me, I think I would be a nervous heap on the ground.

With that, I spot it. Several police officers surround Harry as he is walked out of the school building in handcuffs. His hood shielding his face from view to the majority of students, however, I know it's him. Same outfit, same demeanor, same person. They’ve got him. I feel a weight lift from my shoulders and I let out the breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“How did that happen? How did they know it was him?” I ask, completely bewildered by the entire situation.

Wally looks down at me, a shy smile on his face. He knows something I don’t. Turning to face him properly, I take his hands in mine, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to get an outside. Only for him in turn to focus his stare onto the floor.

“Wally?”

“Dawn has a pretty big social media presence within the school community. She runs it as though she’s an anonymous gossip blog, nobody knows who she is but everyone knows her.” He starts, still leaving me confused as to how this happened. “I managed to get her to the art room in time to take a picture of him with the knife. She posted it, it went viral and now the police are here.”

Feeling a rush of emotions run through my body, I somehow gain the confidence to pull Wally down by his gold chain. Gentle enough that it doesn’t snap but with enough force that he’s taken off guard. My hands hold his face as I press my lips to his, feeling his hands hold my forearms as he delicately moves his lips against mine. As I pull away slowly, my mouth drops open in shock as I gaze at Wally who is now eye level with me. Hunched over in order to kiss me.

“I am so sorry Wally. I have no idea where that came from, I just -”

Wally cuts me off with his lips on mine once again, he maneuvers slightly so that my back presses against the rail and I wrap my arms around his neck as the kiss begins to grow more passionate. His hands are holding my waist, body pressed tightly against mine as I feel every inch of my body tingle with excitement. I know Wally feels it too. When I force myself to pull away for some air, he doesn’t hesitate before moving to press light kisses against my neck.

“I’ve never felt this with anyone before Y/N.” He whispers against my skin, goosebumps raising at the feel of his lips moving against my neck.

He moves to look at me, a big, goofy smile on his face as I move my hands to play with the necklace dangling in front of me. Wally places his hands on the rail besides me, watching me eagerly, awaiting my next move.

“I really, really like you Wally.”

He chuckles softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I really, really like you as well.”

[professonalarttheclownfan]

Hannibal Lecter-

Little Lamb

Hannibal x reader

- mentions of a suicide attempt & mental illness.

You had been a patient of Dr Lecter for about a month now, his first appointment being with you when you were still on the ward after a attempt to take your life. The man who you’d come to know as Dr Lecter was kind to you, his voice soothed your thoughts and you began to look forward to seeing the peculiar man each week. You tried for a little while to not let your mind wander to how attractive you found the older man, but then again it pushed other far more darker thoughts aside for awhile. And you indulged yourself into thoughts of the amber eyed gentleman.

————-

“I hope that you’ve been doing as we discussed in the last appointment”

His eyes flicked to yours and stayed there, he had an intimidating undertone to him, an intensity to his presence, which made you crave him more. Your skin prickled as if it was cold, shuffling in the seat to try and distract from the feeling of him staring at you.

“Yes, I’ve been trying to. The thoughts are as intrusive as ever. Although I’ve found a new vice that’s sort of helping. When I think about them the thoughts calm for a while. But they soon come back. And they come back with vengeance”

Your voice was quiet, as it had been all your life. Slightly above a whisper but not by much. Being softly spoken would often mean people would ignore your existence. But not Dr Lecter, he gave his full attention to you when you spoke. Although it’s his job, you’d like to think maybe, just maybe he enjoyed hearing your voice too.

“The intrusive thoughts are getting more and more graphic, it’s like my brain is willing me to become so disturbed I’m past being helped. A punishment for not being dead. I still wish it had worked.”

Your eyes never dared to meet his unwavering gaze, you knew he was looking at you, it made your skin burn in the best possible way but caused you feel even more insecure then you’d ever been. What he must think of you sat there covered in scars of your own making

———————

His eyes never left you as you sat in a rather large chair in his rather large office, the room oozed class & money. When ever you were in his presence his eyes found you and he couldn’t bring himself to rip them away. And anyways, he enjoyed watching you squirm under his gaze he could quickly tell the affect he had on you. Your appointments with him were something he looked forward to. He was drawn in by you he learned a lot about you during your appointments even making a conscious effort to ask about you outside of what the appointments were supposed to be about. Being under intensive treatment meant he got you for an hour 3 times a week to his delight. He couldn’t quite understand why a beauty like you wanted to be 6 foot under. He always thought people with such beauty also held a disgusting amount of vanity and self importance. But not you, he enjoyed your beauty, and he found himself not wanting to slice you open and eat your body piece by piece. And that scared him. He didn’t want to stay professional with you, he wanted to patch that dark little mind of yours and claim you as his.

“your thoughts are getting worse? what sort of things are these thoughts about? Don’t be afraid to tell me” He asked. Jotting down what ever notes he needed.

—————

“About hurting people, about hurting myself. Images, awful images. They’d flash into my head, just like before. But instead of them just being about me hurting myself they’re ones of me hurting others, before I’d never had that I’m scared I’ll give in” the welling of tears made room ripple and blur.

“I just want to get better. But that’s never going to happen. My only relief is thinking about someone I know I can never have. Someone who wouldn’t even look at me. They just see me as a sick patient and even then my brain punishes me for it. It hurts me but they make me feel safe, they’re the only person that listens to me”

Your tears ran, wet and warm down your face. Hannibal had never felt an ache in his heart when seeing someone cry. Usually someone’s cries meant nothing to him. Especially the ones of those he killed. But with you, he wanted to push you up against a wall and make you feel anything but sadness.

“Whom is it that you think about?” He asked with out thinking, he cursed at himself for being so abrupt when you were upset.

You dropped your head allowing your hair to fan infront of your face, you wanted to tell him, tell him about how you wanted him to make your skin blaze, how you wanted to feel his lips on every single part of your body, how you wanted him to take every waking and sleeping moment of your life and fill it with him.

“I’m afraid to say Dr Lecter I fear he may never want to see sight of me again”

Hannibal watched as you raised your head, tears streaked your face, your cheeks turned pink and your lips plump, and yet he still thought you looked beautiful. Broken yet beautiful.

He wanted to kiss you, so deeply as if he would engulf you whole and allow you to be safe.

“Why would you think that? you may be in a bad place, but you are person that holds a lot more then what you’re going through. I’ve learned a lot about you y/n your beauty is merely only the surface of you, you are intense yet so gentle. Your brain holds great torment, yet you have never laid a hand on another despite what your mind makes you think. The mere fact you acknowledge that hurt, the fact you wanted to take yourself away in fear of hurting others shows me more about you then you think. I apologise if you think this is inappropriate of me. Only a fool would never want to see sight of you again”

His face never changed, his eyes held the same undivided intense gaze. But he meant every word of what he said. Y/ns brain couldn’t comprehend a man who had everything was speaking so highly of someone who had nothing.

“Dr lec-“

“my little lamb call me Hannibal, I insist”

You body shook lightly,

“Hannibal, it’s you. It’s you that I think about. You fog my mind daily. And you make my thoughts go even if its for a little while, it’s worth it.”

Hannibal got up slowly, placing his glass on the small table beside him. You nerves through the roof as he hadn’t said anything. Had you misunderstood him? Was he simply being kind out of pity?

His hand reached for yours, large yet soft and well manicured. You accepted his hand and allowed him to pull you up.

“You fog my mind too little lamb”

He gently caressed your cheek, taking in the feeling of you finally being pressed against his body. He pressed his lips to yours, savouring how sweet you tasted, mint mixed with an undertone of the expensive wine he’d poured for you earlier. Your mind finally at ease, for the first time in a long time.

“Now, don’t ever take yourself away from me.”

[riordanness]

tolerate it — [p.mellark]

wordcount: 3.9K

warnings: slight death mentions, but bro it’s the hunger games what did you reallllllly expect

requested: yes!! @ornellastreet <33

I didn’t think it was possible for my mood to get worse after being reaped, but hearing his name called out over the loudspeaker definitely made me feel like hitting something.

“Peeta Mellark!” The chipper lady, Effie, is way over the top about all this. I mean, I get that it’s her job and all, but we’re kids, fighting to the death. We aren’t lottery winners or something.

I watch as the all too familiar blond boy’s face goes pale, then stare as he slowly makes his way towards the platform, toward me. He doesn’t look me in the eyes at first, just simply takes his place beside Effie.

“We have our tributes!” Effie squeals excitedly. “Now, shake hands, you two.”

Great. I clench my jaw as I hold my hand out to Peeta. He hesitates for just a second, but when he sees my expression, he quickly shakes my hand.

“Excellent!” Effie claps, and I feel the ridiculous urge to slap her wig off.

“Come along, both of you.” Effie waves us into the back rooms of the Justice Building. As I follow her and Peeta, I glance back over my shoulder, at what is probably my last look at home.

I sit beside Peeta, my fingers tracing the soft blue velvet of the couches in this ridiculously extravagant train car. I stare out the window, watching the world flash by faster and faster, till I get dizzy and have to stop. Then I stare at the floor.

Every part of me is aware of the boy only a few inches away. If I leaned even slightly, I would be brushing shoulders with him.

After noticing this, I quickly lean the other direction. I rest my hot forehead against the cool glass window, close my eyes, and try to pretend this is all a dream.

“Well, well, well.” A drawling male voice comes from somewhere above me, and I wake with a start. I must’ve fallen asleep in my chair, which almost impresses me because I was sure I’d been too scared to sleep.

I squint up and recognise Haymitch, the only living victor of District Twelve. He had a glass of alcohol in his left hand, and is waving the other hand at me. “Up, up!” he insists.

I get to my feet uncertainly, glancing around for a sign of Peeta.

“The boy’s already gone,” Haymitch says. “We’re arrived.”

“Arrived?” I ask. “Where?”

He spreads his hands, like ‘are you stupid?’. “The Capitol, sweetheart. Now come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Honestly? It wasn’t how I’d pictured it. I haven’t ever seen much of the Capitol, but the image in my head was way off. Everything was way more extravagant and expensive and ridiculous than I could ever have imagined.

We’ve been here almost two days now. Last night was the parade, where me and Peeta were basically lit on fire and forced to hold hands while all the Capitol citizens stared at us like we were circus animals. I hated every second of it.

I stand now in my room, on Floor 12 of this stupid tribute apartment complex. I stare out the windows, watching the Capitol go by. My fingers fidget with the satin sleeve of my new top, the most fancy thing I’ve worn to date.

I glance at the clock on the wall, and remember I’d better get going to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, Peeta, and apparently our stylists will all be waiting for me.

I hurry.

At the table, I’m forced to sit beside Peeta, much to my annoyance. He leaves me alone, though, which is more than I can say about Effie, who is peppering me with questions. I answer as little as I can, refusing to give this woman any information worth hearing.

“So.” My stylist, Cinna, gives me a smile. He’s nicer than I thought any Capitol people were capable of, but I didn’t exactly like him, not yet. “Ready for your interview tomorrow?”

“No.”

“I have your outfit ready to go. You’ll prepare with Haymitch and Effie all day, till four, then you’re mine. I’ll make you gorgeous.”

“Okay.”

Effie makes an exasperated sound in her throat. “Can’t you just try to be excited?”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. I can’t believe this. “What, excited to die?” I fake an extremely over exaggerated smile. “I can’t wait!”

Peeta kind of laughs, then immediately tries to hide it with a cough and a glass of water.

I ignore him. I’ve become pretty good at that.

Haymitch smirks. Effie sighs. Cinna gives me a knowing little wink, and Peeta’s stylist, Portia, doesn’t look at me.

I sigh and shove my chair from the table. “Night,” I announce, and storm to my room. I collapse instantly into my bed, curl into a ball, and let the tears come. I fall asleep like that, crying for home, for safety, for comfort.

The next morning, I’m woken by Effie’s ridiculous ‘It’s going to be a big, big, big day!’ The entire day sucks from that point onwards.

Both Haymitch and Effie are at their wits ends with what to do with me during my interview.

Effie has me first, and for the first hour, she keeps her optimistic outlook on my potential. Two sarcastic words from me and fifty-seven minutes later, she looks ready to wring my neck then and there. She hands me over to Haymitch looking ready to cry. I have a tiny bit of satisfaction from that, I’ll admit.

Haymitch looks, I don’t know, preoccupied, the entire of our session. Everytime I say anything, he seems almost jumpy. Eventually I give up and sit there in silence until he lets me go. I have a shower per Cinna’s instructions and wait for him in my room.

I have to admit, Cinna is a genius. His handiwork is incredible. I stand in front of the mirror and smooth my skirts, a hint of my smile on my face.

Luxurious clothing, especially dresses, were never something I even thought of back in Twelve. But it felt pretty damn good to wear one.

The dress is gold, with little pockets of white and yellow and orange and red and silver and black, like fire. When I move, it’s almost like flames are flicking over me.

“This is amazing, Cinna,” I tell him. “Thank you for making me feel pretty tonight.”

Cinna gives me a hug, and a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not allowed to bet,” he says in reply, “but if I could, I’d bet on you.”

This time, I really do smile.

I officially want to die then and there the instant I’m up on that brightly lit stage. I have no idea what to say, or how to act, and I fumble my way through the entire interview. Even Caesar Flickerman, who never seems to run out of funny things to say; who always knows how to keep the conversation flowing effortlessly, is at his wits end with me. It seems to be my only talent; making people exasperated at me.

I leave the stage to the quietest round of applause the world has ever known.

I pass Peeta in the hall, and he gives me the smallest look of acknowledgement. I wish we could just stop pretending to be friends. Nothing has ever hurt me as much as Peeta Mellark has, and I don’t know how to forgive him for it. There’s a tiny part of me that’s almost glad we're going into the Hunger Games. No matter how it goes, I won’t ever have to deal with Peeta again after this.

I go to stand beside Haymitch and Effie, and prepare to watch Peeta’s interview. I wonder what he will talk about.

I kind of feel annoyed at him the longer the interaction goes on. He and Caesar bounce effortlessly off each other, talking and joking about… showers? Anyway, the crowd seems to love it.

Then, everything changes.

Caesar leans in to Peeta conspiratorially. “So, Peeta,” he says in a whisper, but directly into the microphone of course. “Is there a special girl back home?”

“Uh, yeah, Caesar, there is.” Peeta looks a little red at the confession.

I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. We’re about to be slaughtered, and they’re discussing crushes? How ridiculous is that?

“Oh do tell.” Caesar sounds more like a teenage girl than a grown man. “We’d love to hear about her.”

Peeta clears his throat, and looks uncomfortably at the cameras. From my position inside, it’s like he’s staring right at me.

I quickly look away.

“Well,” Peeta begins, “she’s amazing. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever known, and I stuffed it up with her once. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

I glance at the screen uncertainly.

Peeta stares right back out at me. “I’m sorry for what I did. I want to do everything in my power to fix it. I promise. I love you.”

Caesar makes a squealing noise. “How adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to get back to District 12 and she’ll have to forgive you.”

Peeta laughs uncomfortably. “That wouldn’t work, in my case.”

“And why not?”

“Because…” Peeta shifts in his seat. “Because she came here with me.”

I remember very little of the aftermath of Peeta’s comment. I know a flash of fury, disbelief, and shock ran through me at once. I know I dashed off to my room. I know I got out of my insane getup and collapsed into bed. I know I wanted to hit Peeta Mellark for that comment.

But after that, I know nothing.

I wake the next morning feeling sick to my stomach. I have a headache, my body feels stiff, and I’m still irrationally angry at Peeta. Well, it’s not irrational. It’s perfectly fine to hate him for what he did. And ‘apologising’ on live tv? It was like a sick joke.

I slowly get dressed in comfy pants and a loose, light blue blouse. I tie my hair up in a ponytail, and head for breakfast.

Everyone else is already there, But I ignore them all, pile my plate with as much food as I can, and sit myself down on the floor as far as possible from Peeta.

Effie huffs. “Good morning to you too, young lady.”

I answer by shoving a bread roll into my mouth whole.

“Ugh!” Effie is more than annoyed with me, but when I catch Haymitch’s eye by accident, he has a small smirk playing at his mouth, so I figure it’s not all bad.

“Hey, y/n,” Peeta tries.

I don’t reply, don’t even acknowledge him. I’m still so angry, so hurt from all those months ago. His words from back then mix with the ones from last night in my head, giving me a headache to match my heartbreak.

“You’re not… I’m sorry… I stuffed up… she’s amazing… I don’t want to… she came here with me… you mean nothing to me… not like that, y/n… I love you…”

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to block it all out. All the memories.

It was a dark, depressing day. The weather sucked, but I guess that just meant it matched the rest of District Twelve.

I was heading home after school, and trying to work up my courage to do something I’d wanted to do for years.

I was going to tell Peeta Mellark that I loved him.

Everyone knew where he lived. The bakery was a pretty, inviting little place. The window was always filled with cakes, all decorated by Peeta himself.

I skipped up the front steps, knocking twice quickly on the dark blue painted door.

A woman answered, Peeta’s mother. “Hello.”

“Hi!” I pretended not to notice her quick glance at my less-than-clean dress, or my coal-covered boots and hair. I knew I wasn't as rich as their family. I wasn’t ashamed, but her look made me sad.

“I’m here to see Peeta,” I told her.

“Ah.” She narrowed her eyes at me, then disappeared. I hear hushed voices, but don’t try to listen in on the conversation.

I just stood there and waited. Soon, Peeta appeared in the doorway. “Hey, y/n,” he says uncertainly.

“Hey.” I decided to just say it—get it over with as quickly as possible. “I like you, Peeta. Like, like, like you.”

Peeta blinked at me, stunned. “You… oh.”

I chewed my lip, suddenly feeling like this was a horrible, horrible mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve just pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

Peeta’s eyes looked conflicted, hurt, despairing. But his words, and his tone, are as hard and cold as ice. “I don’t like you. Not like that, y/n. You… you’re not… anything to me. Just a friend, an acquaintance even. You’re worth nothing to me behind that.”

I physically felt the pain of my heart breaking. I wanted to cry, run, hit something.

“Oh.” I managed. “That’s… that’s cool.” I turned on my heel and ran all the way home.

It’s been over a year since Peeta Mellark broke my heart, and I’ve never gotten over it. Even now, eating my breakfast, knowing we are both probably likely to die in the arena, I still can’t find it in myself to forgive him.

I don’t believe his little stunt last night. It was for the cameras, to make a statement and gain sponsors. He doesn’t love me. He made that pretty damn clear a year ago.

I slam my plate on the ground so hard it cracks in two. A mute, red-haired girl rushes over to help me clean it. I apologise to her, but I can’t stay in this room for a moment longer. I feel trapped, like I can’t breathe.

I find my way to an out of the way part of our complex, sitting against the wall in a little window alcove. I’m overlooking the Capitol central, the citizens milling about in their celebratory days before the Hunger Games.

I feel sick at the sight.

How can they be so enraptured by the horror that is the games? How can they find actual joy and pleasure watching kids die?

“Hey.”

I start, and turn, and see Peeta a few steps away from me.

“Hi,” I say back, a little stiffly.

He gestures at the ground beside me, and I nod. He gently sits down, looking slightly nervous.

“What’s up?” I say dully.

“Uh—nothing much, thanks.”

“What are you doing here?” I have no patience for small talk, especially not now.

Peeta licks his lips and doesn’t meet my eyes. “I actually came to apologise.”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised. “As opposed to your apology earlier?”

Peeta grimaces. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. Haymitch made me promise not to—and, I guess I just didn’t stop to think how you’d feel.”

I look away, trying to ignore the sudden lump in my throat. “Yeah, well.”

“I’m also here to tell you the plan,” Peeta adds.

My gaze snaps back to him. “The plan?” I ask incredulously.

He nods. “This… star crossed lovers angle is really good for getting sponsors. It’ll help us gain friends in the Capitol—people who will want to help us.”

“Because it’s my goal in life to be besties with the Capitol,” I say flatly, and Peeta almost cracks a smile.

“If it’ll help to keep you alive, it is your goal.”

I shrug. “Whatever. What’s this plan?”

“Act like we’re in love.”

I stare at him for a second, then realise he’s dead serious. I deflate a little, but I know deep down he has a point. We need sponsors if we want to have any chance at all of winning the Games.

“Okay,” I say finally. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Training goes for three days, and it mostly sucks. I have zero talents, apparently, except for differentiating deadly plants from safe ones. Oh, I can also tie some knots. Not super helpful. I can’t throw a knife, shoot a bow, lift anything heavier than a couple kilos, or climb ropes very well.

As the third day comes to an end, I feel incredibly useless, and exceptionally hopeless. I’m going to be dead in a day, I can almost feel it.

Peeta actually had a pretty good chance. He’s very strong, and can lift even the heaviest of weights. He’s also a whiz at camouflage and starting fires. All bakery skills, I’ll wager.

As per Haymitch’s instructions, we stick together throughout the training, steering clear of the other tributes. We also touch whenever possible, holding hands, hugging, me letting Peeta touch my hair.

It’s all rather infuriating to me, but if it might help to keep Peeta alive for longer, then whatever. He needs to win. He needs to stay alive and get home to his family.

It’s finally the night before the Games, and to say I was completely terrified would be the absolute truth. I lie awake, goosebumps everywhere. I’m so scared I couldn’t eat anything at dinner, even though I know I should be trying to get up my strength. Who knows how long it might be before I can eat again.

I might be starving in that arena, or dehydrated, or freezing to death. Who knows? Maybe I’ll die right away, in the initial bloodbath.

I sit up in bed, sick of tossing and turning. I climb out, and head out my bedroom door. Surprisingly, it’s not locked. I guess they do have cameras literally everywhere, so they’d know if I was actually trying to escape. Which I’m not. That would be pointless. I’m going to die anyway.

Across the hall is Peeta’s room, and without thinking, I knock on his door. He opens it a second later, and his brow crunches together at the sight of me.

“Y/n?” he asks. “What are you—?”

“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly awkward, realising how weird this is.

Peeta nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah. Come in, please.” He steps aside and lets me pass. His room is indentical to mine.

I walk over to his bed and sit myself down on the silkily sheets. “Can I stay in here tonight?” I ask, not looking at Peeta.

I hear his bed creak beneath me as he sits too. “Yeah, ‘course you can.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then he adds, in a much softer voice, “Anytime.”

I wake up to the sun shining into the room, and for a moment, I forget entirely where I am, and what’s about to happen. I just sink into the pillows and close my eyes.

Then, I remember. The Games are today.

“Hey, you,” a voice says behind me, and I roll over in surprise. Peeta.

“Morning,” I say back, for some reason grateful he’s here. Having a familiar face to wake up to is much nicer than rising alone, facing the Games all by myself.

“Todays the day, huh?” Peeta asks, sitting up and frowning a little.

“Guess so,” I reply, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get up.”

Peeta laughs, and it’s a pretty sound. Too pretty for such an awful day.

There’s a knock on our door, and Effie’s voice filters through: “Het up you two, it’s going to be a big, big, big day!”

“How does she know I'm here?” I ask, sitting up straight.

Peeta shrugs. “The Capitol has a crap ton of cameras, y/n.”

I roll my eyes in annoyance. Do they really need to know every single thing about us, before we die? It’s all so ridiculous I almost have to laugh.

“I’d better go get ready and stuff,” I tell him, sliding out of his bed. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Peeta looks at me for a second, like he’s going to say something big, but just replies with, “See you in the arena.”

“Good luck.” And I’m gone.

“Ten seconds til launch.”

I take a deep breath, feel Cinna’s reassuring squeeze on my shoulder, and I step into the glass tube that will be taking me up into the arena.

“Bye, Cinna,” I half whisper. “Thank you for everything.”

He gives me a smile, that somehow is genuinely caring. “Good luck, my dear girl.”

Something inside the tube clicks, and it slides shut, locking me into my fate. It begins to slowly rise, and so does my anxiety. I come completely out of the tube, and bright, blazing sunlight temporarily blinds me. When I can see again, my throat squeezes in terror and anticipation. All of us are the same distance apart, standing on little pods that I know we can’t step off of without being blown to the sky.

In the middle of the tribute circle is a metal cornucopia, with various weapons and supplies arranged around it, trying to tempt us. I remember Haymitch’s advice to leave it all alone and just run to the woods.

That’s when I remember Peeta. I glance left, seeing a girl from District Seven, I think, who’s also looking in my direction. Beyond her is a tall, dark boy I’ve never really paid attention to other than to get out of his way. I think his name is Thresh.

I squint, frantically trying to locate Peeta. I finally spot him, the farthest tribute I can see to my right. He’s already got his eyes on me, and is shaking his head. Why? What’s he trying to tell me?

Suddenly, the bell is sounding, and there’s a flash of movement as the tributes all simultaneously leave their pedestals, most heading right for the cornucopia. I freeze, my body not reacting at all. I force myself to move, running in just close enough to snatch up a small blue backpack, and then I sprint in Peeta’s direction. I just manage to catch a glimpse of him disappearing into the woods, so I head that way.

About an hour later, I still haven’t caught up to Peeta, or seen any other tributes. Sounds of the bloodbath behind me have faded away now, and nothing but the occasional animal or bird or wind sounds now echo through the forest.

It would almost be peaceful, if I wasn’t where I was.

Then, out of absolutely nowhere, someone grabs my arm from behind. I let out a scream, and a hand slaps over my mouth. I struggle, but I’m not strong at the best of times.

“Calm down!” It’s Peeta’s voice. “It’s just me, y/n, jeez.”

I twist him off me and whirl to face him. My glare is almost enough to murder him right then and there. “Don’t scare me like that!” I hiss. “You idiot!” I hit him, half out of the fear bubbling inside of me and half out of relief he’s here and alive and with me.

“Sorry, my love,” Peeta replies, cracking a flirtatious smile. “I won’t do it again.”

I narrow my eyes at him, half annoyed and half embarrassed at how much relief is flooding inside of me at this sight of him, alive and well and here.

“Allies?” Peeta asks.

A laugh bubbles up, and surprises both of us. Peeta laughs too, but then shushes me. “Let’s not get killed just yet, okay?” he suggests. “I’d like to hang out with the love of my life first.”

And for some reason, I don’t even disagree.

[superstarz9]

So y’all fw EVEN MORE Mr. Puzzles hcs?

Cause I got some :}

tbh I feel like Puzzles get’s too babied in the fandom. A lot of people forget that he’s kind of an asshole, and takes a long time to warm up to people. However, once he realizes how he feels and is willing to reach out more, things get a lot better.

It’d probably be really awkward more than anything else. He wouldn’t understand relationship stuff and you’d have to explain things to him, which would kill the tension for a bit. However, he makes a huge effort trying to be a good partner.

Puzzles wants a relationship (platonic or romantic) but doesn’t want to be fixed/helped. He likes the attention and having a permanent audience.

If anyone here knows Guilty Gear, you guys would probably be like A.B.A and Paracelsus, where the two of you would get into a relationship out of needing something from the other rather than for genuine interests (Him wanting someone to control and you wanting to fix him (or make him worse)) (Yes, this is a callout post for all of us, me included). It would take a while for the both of you to finally realize that your goals are what is harming the relationship from going further, and it takes a while to overcome that boundary. But once you guys do, it’s much easier to work together.

If your relationship is in the real world, he’d probably get annoyed with you more often than not during the beginning. Nothing that would make him lose it, but enough that he’d need to take a moment to readjust. Picture him dealing with Mario’s antics in the gameshow episode without going crazy, as well as him talking to Boopkins during the Price is Right Segment.

Bottom.

He’ll let you kiss his screen but the moment you aren’t looking he’s wiping that shit off. Not because he doesn’t like it, in fact he loves how much you wanna kiss him and give him attention, but it’s a ocd/texture thing; he can’t handle feeling dirty in any way.

When he blushes, it’s like screen-burn (when a static/unmoving image burns into the screen for long periods of time). If he’s blushed in the past 30 mins, you can still slightly see it up close.

His love languages is gift giving and acts of service. He also loves literally everything except gift because you’d be the greatest gift (plus he’s personally not a material-wealth kinda guy. Leave the gift-giving to him).

Doesn’t have a type/isn’t picky. Anyone who’s willing to give him attention, he’ll love.

He hasn’t genuinely laughed at something in years. He’s seen all the comedy shows and knows all the tropes so much that nothing gets to him anymore. You might make him chuckle or smirk but his goal is to make you smile and laugh. If you do laugh at his jokes, it warms his heart a lot. However, he can tell if a laugh is forced/fake, and will call you out on it if he’s not in a good mood.

Whether you like it or not, you pretty much can’t leave him alone once the two of you are official. If he needs some kind of comfort, he’s latching onto you. If you’re far away, he’ll either make the journey to see you or will call you every ten minutes

Hates modern phones and can’t text for shit. The gloves DO NOT help at all. He’ll just call you if he wants to talk to you, but the two of you are usually together so there’s no need.

Literally just unhindged Fluttercord.

A Two-for-one deal: a partner and a white noise machine lol.

Tastes like battery acid. I will not elaborate further.

His memories are like recordings that he can display on his screen, but he rarely does. If he falls asleep and dreams about memories of you, he might display them like that one scene of Pearl sleeping in Steven Universe.

Loves coordinating and matching outfits, but he’ll literally wear the same thing so he likes it when you coordinate with him, really.

Fr tho he is totally a bottom, but he’s overall more of a switch. If he has control over the situation, he’ll make sure everything goes flawlessly. However, if you make him go off-script and cause him to fumble, you can easily take over.

Now these ones are specifically horror movie/show based from a request last post!

He’s okay with slasher movies, but hates the amount of unnecessary stuff like the swearing and sex. All cheep tactics to the the audience interested.

Hates phycological horror. Respects it, but hates it. Partially because he’s in minor denial of what he puts his actors through (he knows and accepts that’s he’s brainwashing people and controlling them, but he often justifies if for his sake).

Likes watching some horror movies because a lot of actors started with horror and got bigger because of it.

Truthfully, he’s a little traumatized from horror movies after staying up late one night to watch night television and adult shows as a kid. When a horror movie started playing, he forced himself to watch the whole thing and had nightmares about it months after. He overall tries to avoid horror.

If you guys are in a relationship and you wanna watch a horror movie, he’ll be hesitant. As you set it up, he’d also try to switch the movie and distract you, which fails. “Well, I mean, if you insist. Oh- but how about this other movie! It’s excellent, and the bonus features are so interesting!”

If you call him out for it, he’d apologies and admit he’s not a fan of horror. You could totally tease him, saying that “there’s no such thing as monster” and that you’re there to protect him if something goes bump in the night, and he’ll get offended and would watch the movie JUST to prove that he isn’t afraid.

He’d be shaking by the 30 min mark, over-dramatically reacting to everything. This could be for 1 of 2 things:

1. He’s genuinely terrified and the suspense is killing him. He’s curled up on the couch with his manic smile waiting for SOMETHING to happen, but nothing’s happening yet, so why’s THE MUSIC GETTING LOUDER?!?!?! You could scare him with a poke or a loud noise, which would cause him to basically skyrocket to the ceiling in fear, or you could gently take his hand and cuddle with him, which he’d immediately grab onto you and squeeze you the entire movie.

2. The acting is horrible and nothing makes sense. If the fear isn’t good enough to captivate him, he’s sprawled out on the couch and complaining the whole time. It’s almost funny how passionate he is about it, if not for the fact that you just wanna watch a movie. You could shush him, but he’ll just go back to talking in the next 5 minutes.

As for the theatre, you kinda can’t take him regardless of what’s playing, mainly because of his screen. He can’t dim it, and he’s already a beacon of light in dim rooms, so the theatre is a no go. He doesn’t mind, as he obviously prefer television. However, if you’re willing to drive and watch them, he’s fine with drive-in theatres. They remind him of his childhood, and it give him a reason to cuddle with you.

Only major downside of a drive-in is all the bugs sticking to his screen in the night, which he’d freak out about. He’d drench himself with so much bug repellent that he’d stink of chemicals.

Here’s a bunch of relationship hcs! Tried to make them mostly interchangeable between romantic and platonic relationships. I’ll continue to cook up more headcanons but I may or may not be working on a fic of my own, inspired by all the amazing writing I’ve been reading from the fandom. Til then, I’ll continue posting here! Questions/comments/suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks and have a great day!

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.29

Summary: Wednesday's ex makes an appearance and you're not happy about it. Neither is the voice in your head. And things only go downhill from there.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, murder, hallucinations, injuries, police Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Joel?” You asked.

“I haven’t seen you in ages,” Joel said, his eyes still glued to Wednesday. Why was he looking at her like that?

“Since that second summer at Camp Chippewa,” Wednesday said with the slightest tilt of her head. Why was she looking at him like that?

“Camp what?” You asked. Everyone seemed to be trying to follow the conversation same as you; it didn’t make you feel any better.

Your migraine got worse.

“You staged a getaway again, same as the first summer,” Joel continued.

“What is going on?” You asked.

“Come join us,” Wednesday said as she moved aside.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as you watched him sit right by your girlfriend. Why was he so eager? What the hell was he doing?

He made her tilt her head, the voice in your head growled, loud and booming. It almost felt like it was rattling your brain inside your skull before pulverising it with a meat tenderiser. Even though it worsened the migraine, you knew the voice was right. This Joel character, whoever the hell he was, had made Wednesday do the equivalent of a smile. You could barely even do that.

You watched - and seethed - as Joel and Wednesday started talking as if they had known each other for centuries. She doesn’t talk to you like that, the voice said when Wednesday started rambling about whatever thing she had learned in her Lit class that, coincidentally, he was also taking. They were bonding.

Get angry, the voice said when Wednesday very nearly smirked at something he said. She didn't, but she nearly did, and that was bad enough. Images flashed in your mind, images of your hands around his neck. It would be simple, you only had to reach over the table. You just looked back down at your food and stabbed your spoon through your rice.

"Seems Wednesday finally has a friend," Divina said from her spot beside you.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

His pulse weakening beneath your fingers as you squeezed harder-

-you blinked to clear the image away. You didn’t need to kill him, especially if he was a friend of Wednesday’s. She didn’t have many friends, you needed to calm down and let her live. Wednesday Addams had no keeper, and even if she did it certainly wouldn’t be you.

“How do you two know each other again?”Ash asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You stabbed the spoon into your food once again; you weren’t hungry anymore.

“My Aunt Debbie deceived my parents into forcing Pugsley and me to attend a summer camp a few years ago,” Wednesday said with another tilt of her head. You roughly grabbed your coffee, suppressing your cough when the liquid was still just a bit too hot when it hit your throat.

“You have an Aunt Debbie?” Bianca asked.

“Picture a grown Enid, but more homicide and mania,” you said with a shrug. Not that you had met her yet, but you had heard stories. After all, she had married Wednesday’s favourite Uncle.

“We were always in trouble for not being like everyone else,” Joel said. He needed to quit looking at Wednesday before you ripped his eyes out of his skull.

“What rebels,” you mimicked, ignoring the look Yoko sent your way. “Practically anarchists.”

“Wednesday was my first kiss, actually.”

You choked on the coffee you had just attempted to drink. She was what? With wide eyes, you looked up to see Wednesday looking at you with a passive face, aside from the slightly lowered brows. Oh she was not giving you that look, not when you were just told Mr. Happy Go Lucky over there had kissed her.

“Oh shit,” Yoko whispered.

Even with your eyes glued to Joel, you could feel everyone else’s eyes on you. Watching you, waiting to see if you would snap. Is that what your life had turned into? One where everyone was just waiting to see what would be the straw to break the camel’s back? Worried that just one wrong thing would cause you to break and lose your temper? 

They should be worried, the voice in your head taunted. You’re a loose canon. 

No you weren’t. 

A liability. 

No. 

A death wish.

“So you two were together?” Ajax asked, his eyes still closed from the hangover no doubt plaguing his body.

“As well as two children can be,” Wednesday said.

“For about a year and a half or so,” Joel said with a nod. He wasn’t even giving you the respect of looking at you.

A death wish.

“We were, what, 12? 13?” Joel asked as he looked at Wednesday with the beginning of a smile.

Tick tick tick.

“I believe so,” Wednesday said with a slight nod.

“Shit,” Yoko mumbled again.

You’re gonna snap.

“And you actually, like, had a good time?” Kent asked Wednesday.

Tick tick tick.

“I would say it was rather enjoyable, yes,” Wednesday answered.

Boom.

You slammed your hands on the table and stood up quickly. The ringing in your ears grew with each second that seemed to crawl by at an agonising pace. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a full breath. It felt like you were trying to breathe underwater, each breath heavier and more painful than the last. You were acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on you as the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Defend what’s yours.

“Hey,” Divina said softly. You couldn’t help but flinch when her hand rested on your forearm. She can go too. “You okay?”

“I’m gonna head out,” you managed to choke out past the lump in your throat.

“Are you feeling ill?” Wednesday asked.

Finally she was looking at you with something other than indifference. Outwardly it would almost seem angry, but you could see the lack of a glare in her eyes. She wasn’t looking up at you, but looking at you with the slightest downturn of her lips. You knew what care looked like on her, and for the first time all day, it was what she was showing you.

“I have a pocket pharmacy,” Joel said quickly, “did you need something specific?”

Kill them all.

“I’m good,” you said harshly. Break his spirit. “I’ll see you guys at the dorm.”

“Did you-”

-you didn’t wait to hear what Yoko was going to say before leaving the booth and heading out of the little restaurant. You gave a tense goodbye wave to Chung on the way out the door. The migraine continued to pound against the inside of your skull, worsening when the sunlight hit your eyes.

Go back in there and show him who’s the boss.

“Shut up,” you said through clenched teeth as you started walking aimlessly down the street.

The voice continued to rage inside your head, mixing between threats and images that, try as you might, you couldn’t shake off. The sound of Joel’s gasps for air or the feel of him desperately trying to claw your hands off. It was too much, you didn’t want to hurt him.

Yes you do.

“I don’t,” you said aloud again, ignoring the look a random woman gave you as you walked past her.

Your feet carried you until you reached the taller buildings in town; the high rises that truly weren’t very high. With only a quick glance around, you stepped into one of the alleys and stopped midway. Your fingers shook as you slid your shirt off and unbuckled the harness, exhaling through your nose at the sudden lack of pressure against your back.

Stop running away.

There was a slight pressure in your back as your wings expanded before you pushed yourself off the ground, propelling straight into the sky until you could land on the top of the highest building. It was a nice place, plenty secluded and you had even managed to sneak a few things up there. There was only one door and it was always locked, so you could keep your things nice and secret.

Breathing continued to be a struggle as your feet touched the rooftop and your wings folded back securely in place. The tips of a few feathers brushed against your arm and you frowned for a moment. It was about time for a dust bath; they were feeling a little unkempt. A problem for another time, of course.

You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth in front of one of the walls that was covered in the reflective glass. Sometimes, during the summer, it nearly turns you into a roasted chicken. But now, during the middle of winter, it was a nice change of pace and-

-a familiar head of unruly curls reflected off the glass.

Your body turned so quickly you nearly slipped on the slick gravel. It felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest when you saw him in the glass, looking at you with such pity you wanted to scream. Tears didn’t bother welling up in your eyes, instead just pouring over until you could feel them nearly freezing on your cheeks from the temperature outside.

“What have you done?” Nicky asked with a tilt of his head and a frown.

You shook your head frantically. You hadn’t done anything, that’s why you were up there. So you wouldn't do anything!

He’s right, the voice said.

“I’m so disappointed,” he said.

The glass shattered before he could open his mouth again, the sharp sound causing you to flinch and squeeze your eyes shut. A pain radiated through your hand. For a fleeting second the migraine vanished before coming back with a vengeance. You choked back a cry before opening your eyes.

Nicky was gone.

The panel of glass was in shards on the ground, now nothing more than a metal backing. Something warm dripped from your hand. You let your head fall and saw the red dripping down your fingers to the gravel below. It was almost hypnotising. Beautiful even.

He’s disappointed in you.

“Stop,” you mumbled as you lifted your hands to cover your ears.

He knows what you did.

“Please stop.” The lump in your throat grew with the tears that continued to fall onto the gravel, mixing with the droplets of blood.

He would hate you.

You tried to say something but the words got caught, coming out as nothing more than a strangled sob as you fell to your knees. The gravel dug through your pants and into your skin, but all you could feel was the weight of Nicky’s disappointment weighing heavy on your shoulders.

It was unclear how long you sat up there on the roof, covering your ears and crying, the cold winter air burning your lungs with each shaky gasp. You were barely even aware of the air getting more crisp, stinging your cheeks and nearly freezing the tears to your skin.

At one point you just let your hands drop and rest on your thighs. Your left hand was caked in dried blood that cracked when it moved. It didn’t hurt anymore, not really. It just rested on your leg as you stared at the gravel, focusing on the singular black pebble you had found in your daze.

"Y/N?"

You didn’t even flinch at the voice behind you; truthfully you weren’t even surprised she had managed to get through the locked door. It was on par for her, that was for sure. Had she brought her new toy with her? Was he going to follow her every move as if his life depended on it?

You do the same.

Yeah. Yeah you did.

“Mi amore,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft you felt a fresh wave of tears fall.

A pair of soft hands held your face firmly before you actually saw Wednesday in front of you. Her eyes were wide and looking over every inch of you. She would hate what she saw, you knew that much. You looked pitiful and weak and broken and that wasn’t acceptable.

Joel isn’t broken.

“You’re freezing,” Wednesday said in that painfully soft voice that you were growing to hate.

She uses it because you’re weak.

“Enid made stew,” she said as if she wasn’t watching you kneel on the precipice of a breakdown. “It should help warm you up.”

She straightened in front of you without letting go of your face. The slightest pull indicated she wanted you to follow, but you just couldn’t get up. Nicky’s face was stuck in your mind, that look of disappointment haunting you. It left your head reeling and had your mouth filling with saliva; you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Cara mia?”

Don’t, you thought, don’t call me that. Her eyes were gentle, and all she had to do was tilt her head before you choked out a sob. As uncharacteristic of her as it was, her hands left your face to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you forward until your head rested on her stomach and you had her unspoken permission to cry.

You’re weak.

That simple fact made you cry harder into Wednesday’s stomach, your hands lifting to grab her jacket so tightly you felt the skin split on your knuckles once again. It was right; you were weak. You couldn’t even handle her seeing an old friend again without completely losing every bit of sanity you had left. How were you going to do anything for her if you couldn’t even do that?

And the fact that she still held you tight while you cried? Showed such a shameless display of weakness and vulnerability when you knew she hated such things in people? Especially such visible displays of those emotions. And yet there you were, crying into her clothes with blood on your hand because you couldn’t stand looking at a fucking piece of glass.

“Would you find comfort in talking about it?” Wednesday asked when you finally settled into little more than the occasional sniffle.

Would you? Possibly. But how could you admit anything that had been going on in your mind? The voices, the jealousy, the insecurity. Nicky. There was no way to talk about any of it without coming across as crazy, and you weren’t crazy. Or maybe you were, you weren’t so sure anymore.

The migraine got worse.

“No,” you said with a long exhale through your nose before pulling back. “No I wouldn’t.”

“Very well,” she said.

She stilled for a moment, and you wondered if she was going to berate you. Tell you to straighten up, keep going, move on. That’s what your dad would have said. It’s what your mom would have said too. Her family was unusual with emotions, maybe she was going to tell you the same thing.

But then you felt her lips press to the top of your head, lingering for far longer than necessary, and it was your turn to freeze. When she pulled away, her gaze had softened and you were looking at your Wednesday. Your Wednesday, who secretly enjoyed receiving affection and even found pleasure in giving it back.

“If you would wish to talk about it, you may,” she said with a tilt of her head. “I would appreciate forewarning so I may prepare,” she blinked once, “but you may.”

You looked up at her. Well, you tried; truthfully she wasn’t much taller than you even when you were on your knees. Just the sight of her was enough to have your heart trying to jump out of your throat; even at night, in the current situation, she looked stunning. No contrast at all to the dark sky above her, simply blending in with the natural beauty surrounding her.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked.

“No,” she said quickly.

“What?” You asked with furrowed brows. “Why not?”

“We are on a freezing rooftop in the middle of winter,” she said, “you can kiss me at home.”

“Bet you kissed Joel in the middle of winter,” you grumbled as Wednesday steadied herself to help you to your feet.

“Not on a freezing rooftop.”

“So you did kiss him in the middle of winter,” you said quickly.

You were upset. Drastically upset, and nothing was going to change it. But the tension of the situation was getting to be far too much, and you were far too tired to keep up with it. Nicky’s face faded into the back of your mind and, though he was still there, he didn’t seem quite as disappointed. At least not at the moment. You could work with that.

“Is Joel the reason you stormed out of the restaurant?” She asked with her own raised brow. “Because if so, it’s rather immature.”

If anyone else had been around, they would have thought she was treating you like an imbecile. And she was! But the slight tilt of her head and the smallest tug at the corner of her lips was a dead giveaway. No one else would have noticed except possibly Enid - and the rest of the Addamses of course - but you did. It eased that ache that had settled in the hollow of your throat just enough to be tolerable.

“I’m not scared of some nerdy kid,” you grumbled even as you reached over and pulled Wednesday to the ledge of the rooftop. She was going to hate you in a moment. “I’d beat him to a pulp.”

“Do not fly me down to the ground,” Wednesday warned you with her genuine, murderous glare. It was lovely.

“Payback for kissing someone before me,” you said with a cheeky grin as you held her close to your chest and tipped backwards over the ledge.

She didn’t scream, which was an improvement from the past few times you had forced her to fly with you. But she most certainly gripped you with nails that could sever a jugular, and the sting of them digging into your skin was rather delicious. There was no doubt when you landed that you would have crescent shaped wounds on your back. It was okay though; it was hot.

“You’re a menace to society,” Wednesday said as she attempted to fix her now-windswept hair.

“But I’m your menace to society,” you said with a shrug.

She simply grabbed your hand, intertwined your fingers, and started pulling you to the dorm.

It was a quiet walk, and most of yours and Wednesday’s walks tended to be. And as much as you wished for her to talk, to say something to keep you out of your head, you kept your own mouth shut. After all, you certainly had nothing to say, so how were you going to expect her to keep up the entire conversation on her own? It was Wednesday Addams, not Enid; it simply wasn’t realistic.

“So,” you started. “You and Joel, huh?”

“Do not start,” she said with a quick shake of her head.

“You know about Ash,” you grumbled, “why can’t I know about him?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who looked like they would murder the other one.”

“You know I have issues,” you said with a huff. “Besides, I didn’t do anything!”

“I will not be the cause of a murder,” Wednesday said as she squared her shoulders. “At least not this one.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll find you someone worthy of your murderous hands,” you said.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, but nonetheless stepped closer to you until her arm was pressed against yours.

“But like, back to you and Joel.”

“Do not-”

“-hey kid.”

Both you and Wednesday slowed to a stop before turning around to see who had called out. A police officer was quickly approaching. Your eyes instantly fell on the way his hand was resting on his gun. It was too dark outside for anyone to come by and see what was happening, if anyone came by at all. As discreetly as possible, you pulled Wednesday slightly behind you until you were between her and the cop.

“Miss Smith?” He asked, his eyes on you.

“I go by Johnson,” you said quickly, your eyes darting between his gun and his face.

“I have orders to bring you in for some questioning,” he continued as if you hadn’t just corrected him.

“About what?” You asked. Behind you, Wednesday squeezed your hand.

“You were at the Pi Beta Phi party last night, correct?” He asked.

“Yeah?” You said slowly; an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. “Why?”

“Two young men were found murdered this morning,” he said with a raised brow. His hand tightened around the gun. “Witnesses say you got into an altercation with them during the party.”

“Shit,” you sighed.

“I need you to come with me for questioning,” he said with a shrug.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not at this time,” he answered a little too quickly.

You turned your head just enough to look at Wednesday, who was glaring at the cop without the least bit of shame. In other circumstances you would have admired it, joined in, even. But now? No, she needed to behave and you very much needed to get him away from her. There was no way he was going to treat a Latina properly, with or without witnesses.

“Call Señor Moreno,” you said as you stepped back, “and I’ll see you at the dorm.”

Wednesday gave you a singular nod before letting go of your hand so you could finally walk off with the officer. She looked furious, but more importantly she looked scared. It always appeared differently on Wednesday; she straightened her shoulders and held her chin higher than usual. You didn’t blame her, you were scared too. But you hoped she would just head home and wait for you.

The police officer opened the back door of the cruiser and helped you in; it was far too tight of a space for you and your unharnessed wings, but you supposed you could make do. He didn’t say a word as he got into the driver’s seat and sped off. You barely had time to see Wednesday through the window as you passed, heading straight for the police station.

You thought back to the previous night on the drive. They had been pricks, and you didn’t even feel the least bit sorry that they were dead. But you hadn’t done it and everyone knew it. You had been with someone the entire night aside from maybe five or 10 minutes, and how could you have killed two people in that time? At a party? It wasn’t possible.

They’re targeting you, the voice in your head said tauntingly. They know you have a record. True, but it hadn’t been you. Everyone knew it, and the police would know it soon enough too. They were just going to ask their questions, realise you were innocent, and let you go back home as if nothing had ever happened.

The sounds of the station were enough to have your skin crawling when you finally arrived; your last experience hadn’t been a pleasant one. You could almost even feel the sharp sting of Erin’s fist again. But you stood tall and followed the officer, letting him lead you to a small interrogation room that was too tight and had your head reeling.

“Have a seat, kid,” he said before pulling his own chair up. You sat quickly.

“Gonna read me my Miranda Rights?” You asked before he could even get settled.

“You’re not under arrest,” he said with a shrug, “you’re free to go at any time.”

“If you end up arresting me without reading me my rights, you’ll lose a case.” You sat back and crossed your arms over your chest. Cool it, you thought to yourself, you’re sounding too defensive.

Don’t cool it, the voice argued back, make it worse.

“I can tell this isn’t your first rodeo,” the officer said as he mirrored your position.

“It’s not,” you said; you readjusted your jaw and broke eye contact first. “Please ask your questions so I can go home.”

“Did you have an altercation last night with Mr. Burton and Mr. Holland?” He asked, getting right into it.

“I got into a fight with two frat boys last night, yeah,” you nodded. “But I didn’t stop to ask their names.”

“What was the fight about?”

“They were being homophobic pricks to my friends,” you said. “As well as throwing around a few choice insults about Outcasts.”

“So you started the fight?” He wrote something down on a piece of paper. You did your best not to look.

“They started the fight when they called my friends faggots,” you corrected. “I only retaliated physically after they threw an insult at me as well.”

“But you started the physical altercation?” He asked as he looked up at you.

Lie, the voice in your head said. It’s a trap. But you didn’t want to lie; if you could tell the truth and prove that you hadn’t done anything, then they would let you go. That was how it was supposed to work, right? Innocent until proven guilty? You hadn’t done anything wrong and you knew it, you weren’t going to let them just take you down a second time.

“I threw the first punch, that’s correct,” you said with a nod, immediately clenching your jaw to try and ease the anxiety bubbling up in your chest.

“And what injuries did you inflict on them?” He pushed.

“I cold cocked one of them, headbutted the other,” you started with a sigh, thinking back to what had happened. What had you done to them? “A few more punches.” Oh yeah. “And I kicked one of them in the balls.” You had to fight not to smile at the memory.

“You kicked him in the testicles?” The officer confirmed with an uneasy face.

“Yes sir,” you said simply, “pretty hard, actually.”

He squirmed in his seat and exhaled harshly through his nose.

“Can someone corroborate that story?” He asked.

He doesn’t believe you.

“A lot of someones,” you said quickly. “We all live in the same dorm, I can give you their names.”

The officer nodded and started jotting on his piece of paper. At the go ahead, you gave him the names of everyone you thought wouldn’t be targeted by the police; you made sure not to mention Wednesday, Bianca, or Yoko. If anything were to go downhill, they would be the first to be brought in for questioning. No, you would rather die than have the cops after them.

“And do you have an alibi for the entire night?” He asked after getting everyone’s names and numbers.

“Those same people,” you said with a gesture of your head toward the sheet of paper. “I was with at least one of them all night.”

“And after the party?” He asked.

“We all left at the same time and went home,” you said. “And I slept with my girlfriend all night.”

“And all of these people will tell me the same thing?” He said with a raised brow; he still didn’t believe you. “That you were with them at the party and after?”

“Yes,” you said with the utmost confidence you could manage to convey. “Because it’s the truth.”

The officer sat back in his chair again and stared at you. He’s testing you. You knew that, you could tell, but he wasn’t going to win. You had nothing to hide. There was nothing they were going to find, and you were going to go home and go to sleep with Wednesday, just like every other night. They weren’t going to trick you like they had after Nicky.

“That’s all the questions I’ve got for you tonight,” he finally said, causing your shoulders to visibly fall. “If I have any more I’ll give you a call.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod as you stood up from your seat. The officer did the same. “Thank you.”

“Hey kid,” he said before you could start walking down the hall; you stopped and looked him in the eyes. “For the record, I don’t think you did it.”

“You don’t?” You asked incredulously.

He’s lying.

“I knew those boys,” he said with a shrug, “they were always causing trouble.” You nodded once in acknowledgement. “Go on home, it’s late.”

“Yes sir,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

He nodded at you and gave you a polite smile before gesturing forward, following you through the hallway until you were at the reception. You gave an awkward smile and wave as you exited the station and inhaled the crisp winter air. It stung, but at least it wasn’t suffocating.

He was lying, the voice said, he believes it’s you.

“Shut up,” you mumbled to yourself as you made your way down the street, heading directly to the dorms.

You very much needed a long night’s rest. Wednesday had better give you that kiss.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

Word count: 9,210. Read on A03. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Alastor and Mina reunite a year after he tried to claim her soul. Adorable, "young love," fluffy smut. TW: canon typical language, self image insecurity, smoking, drinking, mentions of incest and statutory rape - not involving Alastor or Mina, breeding cycles, fingering, oral - fem receiving, p in v, creampie, light biting.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful

1953

Pride Ring

These parties were even worse than Alastor remembered.

Most of the Hellborn royalty worth a damn were here tonight and therefore most of Pride Ring’s most prominent Overlords were in attendance. It would be poor form if he hadn’t made an appearance, but he found the whole thing really . . . stupid.

He was a man of principle and believed in keeping one’s manners in check when appropriate but the over-the-top air of sophistication, of white collar, blue blood privilege among these Hellborn’s made Alastor’s skin crawl. It reminded him far too much of the type of people he had to associate with while working in radio as a human. He had to dress nicer, change his accent and speak with more refinement, force his hair straighter . . . hell he even spent as little time outside during the daytime to keep his slightly tanner than Caucasian skin tone as light as possible.

These days, he only made a point of showing up to these parties to see how uncomfortable he could make the Goetia Ars family before dipping out in less than an hour’s time. Some of their lower status members had been a few of his first targets when he had come into power there in Hell and he always made a point of re-airing their family members’ screams to his broadcasts for days in advance before arriving to their palaces.

There was only one reason he was still hanging around that evening and it was the woman who he had just watched make her exit out onto an empty balcony.

He hadn’t seen Mina in over a year. Not since his mishap with attempting to get her soul. He had known very quickly in their budding friendship that he genuinely enjoyed her company, but it wasn’t until he had tried to force her hand, and she had nearly died, that he realized the depth of his feelings for her. And it had made him extremely uncomfortable, to say the least. He had meant it when he had told her that he never wanted to see her again.

Or . . . at least he thought he had.

But then he had seen her that evening from across the ballroom, eagerly speaking with an owlish royal easily twice her height.

Like him, she hadn’t arrived in anything fancier than she normally wore, although her usual dress was classy enough to not stand out. The long, loose fitting black sleeves of her top were modest but the sweetheart collar and bow around the front of her waist accentuated her curves pleasantly. The dress ended with a long flowing skirt of burnt orange, the rich color of a southern sunset he hadn’t seen in decades.

Alastor had always enjoyed the company of women. Although he admired their beauty in a purely aesthetic way, he found he related to them better and preferred their company over that of men’s. Therefore, almost all of his closest acquaintances were women. But it wasn’t until that night, when he was forced to come to terms with how much he had missed having her in his life, that he felt a stirring of something he hadn’t experienced since his teenage years, when even his hormones had been challenging to control. Still hesitant to approach, he’d watched her from a distance; debating with himself on whether or not to act on the stirring of emotions he could feel brewing inside him.

And then. . . Mina looked upset. She walked through the large glass doors, clearly agitated, and went towards the edge of the outdoor balcony, out of his line of sight.

Perhaps it was because he had separated himself from her completely over the last 15 months, allowing both of their tempers to cool off enough to think. Or maybe it was just the utter distraught look on her face that drew him to her. Or maybe, something in his dark and twisted mind had finally softened; matured enough to allow him something more in this afterlife.

Whatever the reason, Alastor could no longer find a reason why he shouldn’t allow himself to be around her. Taking his still full glass of scotch with him, he stepped out onto the balcony, and shut the door behind him.

Mina was at the corner of the balcony, elbows on the railing, and holding a cigarette. She looked over her shoulder at him, then turned away again, and with a slight tremble in her hand, brought the cigarette to her lips and took a long drag.

“You were right, you know,” she said once she exhaled. “These parties are terrible.”

He chuckled as he approached her, leaning one elbow on the railing himself but turned more directly towards her. “It’s almost criminal that I tried to get you to make a deal for the chance to go to one. Really, I’m ashamed.”

Her face broke into a smile then. “I did sneak off and find this amazing library upstairs. There were texts so old they were in scrolls. Even a few clay tablets. None of it in English, of course.” Her smile fell and she took another drag. “No one here even thinks it’s of any interest. These Goetia’s, they’re so ancient and powerful, they know so much about . . . everything. And they spend their time doing this? Standing around in outfits and jewelry that costs thousands of dollars just to talk shit about their children and make jokes about who their husband is fucking. I don’t know why I thought they’d be different. Turns out Hell really isn’t much different than Earth.”

“And yet they’re one of the few who are summoned by living humans,” Alastor agreed. “Oh, the irony. What I wouldn’t give to make deals up on Earth.”

“Didn’t you kill a few of them?” Mina asked.

“Ages ago, but yes. Still one of my finer moments,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

She was staring at him openly now, a small smile playing across her lips, as she eyed him up and down.

“You look . . . really good,” she said after a beat.

He brought his glass down, and though he could tell she was flirting, he pretended to be confused. Glancing down at his red pinstriped jacket, he said, “I look how I always look.”

“Sorry,” she said, flicking her cigarette out over the edge without bothering to stamp it out. “I’m not myself tonight. Forgive me if I seem a little . . . irritable and forward. Could you conjure me one of those?” she asked, eyeing his glass.

“Jameson?” he asked, assuming.

“Please,” she scoffed, “Bourbon.”

“Developed a different taste while you were in the south?” he teased and produced the glass with a flourish.

She took a rather large gulp before answering. “It’s sweeter.”

Mina pulled her hair over one shoulder, fanning air over the exposed skin with her free hand and sighed. “I know it’s Hell, but does it always have to be so God damn hot?”

Alastor noted that it was actually a cooler evening as far as Hell was concerned and quite comfortable until suddenly, he understood. Mina was shaky, on edge, flushed, and eyeing him like he was a cool drink of water, even more so than she had before he had betrayed her trust. And she was drinking liquor, which he had never seen her do before. He didn’t know much when it came to the biology of demon women, but he knew then that Mina was in heat. Probably just the later stages of it, but still.

She was drunk and hormonal, and he had been flirting with her.  

“Alastor?” she asked, after he hadn’t responded to a single thing she had said.

Normally the idea of someone being attracted to him either amused him or it was like a bucket of ice water down his back, completely repulsing him. But he was realizing now that Mina’s attraction to him, which was remarkably still there despite everything he had done to her and was surely a sign of her susceptible state of mind, pleased him. He felt warm and happy and suddenly perversely excited about her aroused state.

She was watching him, and he had to think, think of something he would normally do or say, and not how much he wanted to touch her. That could come later, if he still wanted it, but he could not lose control of this situation and take advantage of her.

“I don’t find you to be irritable at all. You are being remarkably pleasant, given the circumstances in which we last parted,” he finally managed to say with a confident smile, thankfully always there to hide his inner turmoil.

“It’s funny how much a year makes a difference,” she said, inching a little closer to him and taking another sip of her bourbon. He should not have given that to her. “I figure, if you wanted to hurt me, you would have done it that night. Instead, you let me be. You let me live. And after a while, I really had to start asking myself, why? Why didn’t you just kill me?”

“I didn’t have a reason to,” he answered, sounding much more composed than he felt.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you kill people for less.”

He had no smart response for that. She was right. Anyone else would have at least faced a painful death before respawning but likely would have ended up on his radio broadcast as a permanent entertainment piece.

“It wasn’t all for show, was it? The time we spent together?” she asked when he failed to answer.

“No,” he admitted, and looked down to see a lock of her hair now wrapped around his fingers. When had he done that? “No, I’m afraid . . . none of it was.”

She shifted her weight, processing what he had just confessed.

“Then why-“ she began, and now she was running her hands over the lapels of his jacket, “-why did you do it? Why couldn’t you just let things continue the way they were going?”

“I suppose,” he swallowed, and he was sure not even his smile could hide his exponentially growing desire for her any longer, “I had forgotten how to do that.”

She smiled back at him, seemingly satisfied and believing that answer.

“Let me show you how,” she whispered.

She raised herself up on tip toes and kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and surprisingly controlled. Despite the rush of hormones Alastor could practically smell coming off her, she wasn’t losing herself in the heat of the moment. If she had been all tongue and grabbing hands it might have snapped him out of it but instead, she was sweet and almost shy with him. And now he was good and turned on and he was the one deepening the kiss, getting handfuls of her hair at the back of her head, and pulling her towards him.

His tongue danced across hers and God bourbon had never tasted so good. He had barely had a double of his own drink and yet felt more drunk than he had in years with the feel of her pressed so well against him. She was so right for him, understood him so easily, wanted him as much as he wanted her-

A glass shattered and Mina broke away from the kiss. Without stepping out of his arms, she looked down at the glass of whiskey she had dropped in order to grab hold of his jacket with both hands.

“Oops,” she said and then broke into a fit of giggles.

Right. She hid it well but was clearly more drunk than he had initially wagered.

“You should get yourself home,” he said reluctantly. “Who did you come here with this evening?”

“Rosie,” Mina answered. “But she already left.”

“Did she now?” Alastor said, and then laughed. “Mina, my dear, I believe we’ve been set up. She’s the one who talked me into coming here tonight but you’re right, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“It’s not a problem, really Alastor. I’m a big girl, I can see myself home,” Mina said. “There’s just one more thing I need to do.”

As if on cue, a Goetia woman opened the doors and stepped out on the balcony.

“Do you mind?” Alastor asked, irritated at the intrusion. Even if there was a chance that this was this owl woman’s house, he and Mina were clearly in the middle of a private conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sinner,” she said.

“It’s alright, Alastor, I asked a favor of her," Mina said, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Actually, would you be a dear and step inside? Close the doors behind you.” She leaned in and whispered, “And just to be safe, keep a bit of a distance, would you?”

Alastor caught a sinister look in Mina’s eye and catching on, nodded to her.

“My apologies, my lady,” Alastor said as he turned to face the hostess and made his exit.

“Alright, what is it you wanted to see now?” the heiress said to Mina without acknowledging Alastor further. She sounded impatient and bored.

He did as he was told and quietly brought the two doors closed together and stepped away from the glass. Though he couldn’t hear a thing, he could see Mina turn and face into the night, the broken glass at her feet forgotten.

After a moment, he watched in fascination as the Goetia’s body stood a bit straighter and stared at Mina as if in a trance. After what must have been only another 10 seconds, Mina finally turned to face the Goetia who then turned away and went back through the doors, with Mina following close behind.

The heiress walked wordlessly out into the middle of the large hall full of other demons while Mina stopped at Alastor’s side, watching the Hellborn with a coy smile on her face.

Wordlessly, the heiress began to rip off her ballgown.

She tore it off in chunks; first bits of the sleeves and then large strips of the skirt, exposing layer upon layer of silk and tool, before finally revealing skinny, scaled legs that were far from appealing to Alastor’s gaze.

“Darling, what are you doing?” another Goetia said with alarm and ran towards her from the other side of the room. “Gwenore! STOP!”

“I’ve been fucking your nephew!” the woman screamed in what must have been her husband’s face.

“Oh shit,” Mina said with a laugh. “That’s even better than I expected.”

“My neph-“ the man said with a pause, “BUT HE’S FIFTEEN!”

“You did this to her? A Goetia?” Alastor asked, tilting his head.

“IT WAS MY COUSIN BEFORE THAT!” the woman shrieked and as her husband let go of her, she began ripping out the beautiful long feathers that fell down her shoulders from her head.

“I only managed it because she was so unsuspecting but . . . yes. I just put the suggestion in her head that she make a fool of herself,” Mina answered. Neither of them had taken their eyes off the show.

“And sometimes . . . sometimes . . .” the woman was hyperventilating and cackling with hysteria now, eyes gone bloodshot as she continued to rip off bits of clothing and feather. “Sometimes I wonder how good our son will be when he’s more grown!”

A resounding gasp came from all the onlookers at that. ‘Gwenore’ hadn’t screamed that confession as loud as the others, but it was still plenty audible to the dozens of people around her.

“I may have also made her confess her deepest secrets,” Mina said and giggled the same light laugh she had made when she dropped her whiskey glass. “I guess she’s even worse than I judged her for.”

Alastor looked down at Mina, and saw all at once, the potential of having her by his side. Not under his control, not limited by his own ideas and fancy. Completely free and standing next to him as his equal, simply because of her own desire for him. She was more than cruel; she was creative about it. Took pleasure in it, just as he did. And even outside of her remarkable power, Mina was lovely to be around.

“You are stunning,” Alastor said, still watching her.

She looked up at him and her malicious grin turned back to that sweet, innocent smile she had used on him earlier.

“Take me home?” she asked, and what was he to do, but oblige her?

  ____

Mina had been polite and well-mannered during the cab ride home, looking very composed and in control of herself. It was impressive to Alastor, who had heard tales of women losing their minds to their various animalistic hormone cycles. His own rut got the best of him occasionally, making him more aggressive and likely to lash out than normal. Thankfully the sexual urges were rather dormant in him, even for those two weeks out of every year, and were nothing he couldn’t take care of himself in the privacy of his own place.

But Mina had all the signs that she was aroused now that he was looking for them. Her vertical pupils were completely round, she had a red blush to her face and even across her collar bone, and she fidgeted often with her legs, crossing, and uncrossing them several times. To an untrained eye, she was nothing less than a lady while seated next to him in the small cab that was barely tall enough to accompany the height of his ears, but Alastor could tell she was doing a fine job of restraining herself.

Once the excruciating ride back to The Pit was over, Mina casually took his hand and guided him towards her apartment. This area of the neighborhood must have been far from where most of the torture took place as it was fairly quiet, only the occasional scream came from the lake of fire he could see from between the apartment buildings. It didn’t have the same quaint charm as Cannibal Town, but Alastor had to admit, the gothic splendor of the place was admirable.

“Well, I guess that settles it,” Mina said as she walked him up to a front door he gathered to be her own. “You must really have no ill feelings towards me.”

“Did I just pass some test I wasn’t aware I was taking?”

“Oh, definitely,” Mina answered, that wicked smile back in place. “No one can cross the threshold into Abadon’s territory if they mean harm to anyone who lives here. You would have burst into flames the second your feet hit the pavement here.”

He felt his ears shoot straight up in surprise.

“You were willing to set me ablaze to make sure I wasn’t still after your soul?” he asked, shocked and impressed.

Mina shrugged and turned her back on him, producing a key and unlocking her front door.

“You were willing to burn me to get my soul. Fair is fair.”

She held the door open for him and gave a welcoming gesture for him to follow her in.

“I really shouldn’t,” he said.

She frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because if I go in there, I’m afraid I might actually stay. And tonight . . . tonight is not the right night for that.”

Now she was positively pouting at him. “I’m not langered, Alastor. You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

“That is not-“ he began, and then sighed and tried again. “I’m sorry if I don’t know a more polite and proper way to address this issue, but I’m concerned that your . . . ‘timing’ . . . if I may, paired with your alcohol consumption, may allow you to consent to things you wouldn’t normally consent to.”

Her jaw dropped and for a moment, Alastor worried he had deeply offended her.

“You burned down a bar and caused damage to an entire city block.”

“That’s not exactly unusual for me-“

“You locked my best friends up for hours!”

“Again, Mina-“

“You trapped me in an alley and tried to burn me alive!”

“I’m not sure I understand where you’re going with this.”

“And now you’re being a gentleman?!”

He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but once again, Mina left him speechless.

She started laughing.

After a beat, Alastor’s own smile turned to that of strained confusion to genuine affection. She had a point. It sounded a bit silly when put that way, but it didn’t mean he was going to change his mind.

 “You’re insane,” she said, “and I think I really like you.”

He stepped closer into her space, tilted her chin up slowly with his index finger, and placed a single, lingering kiss to her lips.

 She sighed as they parted. “Are you sure?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” he answered, “I’m very sure. Because I’d very much like to have more than one evening with you, and I think if I take this one, I will have ruined that chance.”

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “that is the loveliest thing a man has ever said to me.”

“Dinner then? Two nights from now?”

“I can’t wait,” she smiled. “Where?”

“My radio tower. I’ll cook.”

Alastor had told her a year ago, before he had sent her running, that he had never had a guest there before. He was counting on her remembering that and based on the shocked but pleased look on her face, she did.

_____

Two days later, Mina was feeling much more in control of herself. She still wasn’t sure if she really would have thought less of Alastor if he had stayed the night with her that evening; especially because in her fantasies, it had been a wonderful time. But the fact that he had been so considerate of her, she knew in the long run, only made the sudden return of her feelings for him much stronger.

Alastor made her feel like an addict falling off the wagon. It wasn’t a gradual decent; she was right back to that evening in the park before he had offered her his first deal. Mina was falling for him, hard and fast, all over again, after having spent hardly an hour in his presence. And the only part of her that even cared a little was her pride. Mina had enjoyed her years as a strong, independent bachelorette. Although it was often lonely, and sexually frustrating, it gave her a sense of freedom that she had killed for when alive. But her heart and her body wanted Alastor so damn much, that together they drowned out that pesky voice of independence as she stood under his radio tower, looking up.

She knew where it was; everyone in Pentagram City did. The giant, black and red tower soared over the heart of the city and was impossible to miss. But it was raised up on a deadly looking lattice of support beams, with no ground floor entrance, or even a ladder to climb.

How was she supposed to get up there? How did he get up there?

Something in the corner of her eye moved, down near her feet, and she glanced at it too late. The shadowy hand had broken free from its camouflaged surroundings and already had her by the ankle and even her cat-like reflexes weren’t fast enough to react by the time she was dissolving into darkness herself.

She felt the sensation of being pulled up and seconds later, was looking out over a red-tinted cityscape.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” Alastor’s voice said from behind her, “but it really is the easiest way up here. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to try and make that climb. Everyone who has, has ended up in the airwaves.”

He was setting food down on a small rectangular table set for two, pressed up against a large window, as if to give the diners a perfect view.

Mina turned a slow 360, taking in the whole room.

It was nothing like what she imagined a typical radio tower to look like. She had envisioned a cramped, windowless room, with walls consisting of nothing but dials and controls she couldn’t even begin to understand the workings of. She had seen videos of phone operator rooms, women wheeling back and forth, placing wires into one port after another, and that was the closest thing her early 20th century mind could come up with.

This place was exactly the opposite of all that. It was a large round room, surrounded by several floor to ceiling windows that gave the occupants a nearly uninterrupted view of the city below. There was only one small control panel with a few dials, and one old-fashioned radio from the 1930’s sitting on a stand next to it. Alastor must have done the majority of his work using his magic rather than actual technology, which appeared to be only supplemental to his tasks.

And the décor was cozy, giving the room a lived-in feeling, rather than what one would expect in a professional setting.

There were antlers and wildlife paintings mounted on the few narrow walls of the room, and a long and deep-seated couch placed against the opposite window from the dining table. A few cabinets and shelves placed strategically throughout the room, holding everything from books, to liquor bottles, to shrunken heads.

“Not what you expected?” Alastor asked after she turned back around to face him.

“It’s lovely,” she answered truthfully. “You live here?”

“Well, it’s not the only room, but it is my favorite.”

She quickly scanned the room again. There were no doors indicating the existence of other rooms. Or an exit. Mina should have felt trapped then, but instead she felt safely secluded, much like she did in her own home.

“Ah, yes, well,” Alastor said, realizing what she was noticing. “Since no one else has ever been here, I didn’t have to think of a design that would accommodate anything other than my preferred method of moving about.”

So, he just moved from room to room, via shadow? For a man who could conjure just about anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers, Mina supposed that made sense.

“No one else has really ever been here?” she asked.

“No one,” he answered, and pulled a chair away from the table, indicating for her to sit down. She did and he joined her, sitting opposite from her.

“And why me? Why now?” she had an idea, but she wouldn’t be a woman if she didn’t like to hear it said out loud.

“My biggest problem with you, Mina,” Alastor began, “is that for some inexplicable reason since we’ve met, I’ve been desperate for you to know everything about me. And vice versa.”

Mina felt her face grow warm. He had been honest then, when he admitted to her that their time spent together wasn’t all just to get her soul. Their hours and hours of conversations, often deeply personal, had been as real and intimate as she imagined.

“Speaking of,” Alastor continued, “please, try the food.”

She did, taking a tentative bite of rice and sausage. It looked to her like some kind of curry and must have taken at least a couple hours to make. Just the first bite had such an explosion of flavor and mixed spices, far more than her European palate was used to. This is what he should have tried to bargain for her soul over.

“That’s positively deadly,” she said with a smile.

“Not too spicey?” he asked. He was smiling as well, as always, but something in his eyes and the extra crackle in the static of his voice made Mina think he was a little nervous.

“No. I mean, it’s more than I’m used to, but it’s incredible. Really.”

He visibly relaxed a little then and Mina’s heart gave a little flutter. Alastor really had been nervous, and it was entirely too sweet to think he cared that much about her opinion.

“It’s called jambalaya. It was my mother’s recipe,” he admitted.

Oh . . .

Mina felt the significance of the evening shift into something more serious. This was the closest he could come to introducing her to his mother and men didn’t do that unless they were pursuing something serious. Her heart began to beat just a little harder at the realization, but less out of nerves, and more out of excitement. That notion sat just fine with her.

“Here,” he said, setting a glass of red wine before her. There was no bottle in sight, but again, this was Alastor. She wondered if she would ever get used to his ability to just create things out of thin air like that. “It’ll help if the spice starts to build up too much for you.”

Mina recognized the flavor as a Chianti, which was normally a dryer wine than she preferred, but she had to admit, it paired wonderfully with the spice of the jambalaya. She would never have though to mix Italian with Creole, but clearly, Alastor knew what he was doing.

It was hard to say how long their dinner lasted. Their conversation continued far longer than the meal and it seemed there wasn’t a topic they didn’t cover.

He spoke in much more detail about his mother than he ever had before, and Mina felt an empty kind of ache that she hadn’t acknowledged in years. She never had such an unconditional bond with anyone. Even her baby sister, who she had loved more than anyone, had distanced herself from Mina by the end of her life. Rather than feel envious of Alastor though, she felt relief. This man, as deadly and cold as he could be, had a soft side. Was capable of love and empathy for another person. If Mina were ever to let herself be with another person again, he would have to toe the same line between psychopath and caring partner that she did.

The conversation turned more to their work, both while alive and in Hell, and how it had defined them so much as the people they were now. They shared the same love of music, were driven by the same desire to not be controlled by the kind of people they loathed the most, and to be powerful enough to feel free.

It was so easy to talk with him about these things, to be here in the comfort of his home for hours, when normally she would begin to feel her social battery draining and get the urge to leave for the peace and quiet of her own solitude. She wanted the opposite of that. She wanted to stay here with him and never, ever leave.

Eventually, the conversation did come to a lull, and Alastor asked if she would like to dance with him.

Mina felt that feeling return, that this was really the start of something big between them, something that could be permanent, and eagerly took his hand.

The radio hummed to life as together, they strode to the middle of the room, and Mina stepped into his arms as the music began to play.

Life is a song, let’s sing it together

Let’s take our hearts and dip them in rhyme

Let’s learn the words, let’s learn the music together

hoping the song lasts for a long, long time

Life is a song that goes on forever

Love’s old refrain can never go wrong

Let’s strike the note Mendelssohn wrote concerning

spring weather

Let’s sing together and make life a song

Mina was familiar with the song, although love songs had never really been her cup of tea, and it had been popular on Earth a few years after her death. She couldn’t help but pay more attention to the lyrics now though, as Alastor moved them in gentle circles around the room. If she had read a scene like this in a book, she would have scoffed and called it cheesy and unrealistic. But there in real life, feeling for the first time how easy it was to fall in love with someone when they were actually right for you, Mina began to understand what those romance novels were trying to tell her all along.

As the last of the lyrics were sung, before the music had completely faded out, they were kissing. Mina should have been out of practice, but just as their kiss on the balcony had been, it was perfect. There was no hesitation in it, but it was slow and tender . . . at first. She could taste the spices and wine on his tongue, smell the lingering scent of Spanish moss and cypress on his skin, and feel the strength of his power emanating from his body beneath her hands.

This time it was her who increased the intensity of the kiss, moving her hands from his jaw line up into his hair, playfully scratching at the short clipped black hair before tangling her fingers in the longer red strands. She felt Alastor’s arms tighten around her in response, his own hands wandering lower until they were gripping her hips.

He broke away from her lips only to then leave a trail of kisses across her jaw and she moaned when his mouth reached her neck, using the sharp points of his teeth to take a feathery light bite out of her pulse point before kissing away the playful marks. She tilted her head back while still holding the back of his, encouraging him to continue.

Alastor was a full head taller than her, and while standing it was difficult and awkward for him to go any lower. His breath was hot and heavy against her exposed neck, a signal to Mina that he was just as needful for her as she was for him.

“The couch?” she managed to pant out, wanting desperately to be somewhere where he could be properly on top of her.

He shook his head. “Allow me,” he said, and with another kiss, Mina felt that now familiar feeling of shadow wrapping its essence around her, and the room dissolved into darkness.

When they reappeared, they were in a much smaller, windowless room but it wasn’t cramped or claustrophobic. Rather, it felt like the bedroom in a quaint, cozy cabin. The walls were wood paneled, in a well-done, rustic kind of way. The only pieces of furniture were an extra-long bed tucked into a corner, made neatly up with a dark green quilt, and a small mahogany dresser on the opposite wall. There didn’t seem to be a closet of any kind, but there was one door that was left just slightly ajar that appeared to lead to a bathroom that must have been near the size of the bedroom itself by what she could see of the distant wall. 

Mina noticed all of this in a distracted, half paying attention sort of way, considering her focus was almost entirely preoccupied by the red deer demon looming over her. Their mouths were on each other after half a second of her processing their new location; their hands exploring each other in a much more forward way than before.

Her hands slipped under Alastor’s jacket, grazing over his shirt in an attempt to feel as much of him as possible. Quickly losing patience with the restrictiveness of the item, she pulled her hands back out from underneath the jacket and began unbuttoning it until she could shove it off his shoulders and discard it behind him. He dutifully helped pull his arms and hands out of the sleeves and once free, they were back on her own body, untying the sash made up into a bow at her navel to loosen the fit of her blouse so that he could pull the hem out from the top of her skirt.

Alastor’s hands found skin as they explored under her shirt, ghosting up her sides and tickling her ribs. She froze at the contact, pleasurable as it was, as it occurred to her for the first time that she’d have to take her blouse off.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, noticing her sharp intake of breath.

“Nothing, I just . . .” she tried to explain but hesitated.

“We can stop,” he said simply, not a trace of disappointment in his tone.

“I don’t want to stop,” she responded quickly; desperately. His small grin twitched at the corners at her reply.

“Then tell me what I just did wrong,” he said, his voice teasing but understanding.

“Nothing, you . . . you’re perfect,” she sighed, knowing what she had to do. “I need to show you something.”

Mina reached behind her and undid her zipper herself and pulled her blouse up over her head, standing before him in her bra. She knew he would be able to see the beginning of her spots across the tops of her shoulders, even if he couldn’t see them trailing down her back from his position.

His smile widened further, though he looked a little confused.

“I was hoping to see more than that tonight,” he quipped.

Mina frowned. “You don’t mind them?”

“Are we talking about the same things?” he asked with a playful tilt of his head.

She rolled her eyes at his inuendo and gestured with her chin to her shoulders.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows raised in understanding. “No, of course not. Why would I?”

“Well they’re . . . they’re hideous,” she said in a small voice.

“Mina,” he chided, “I don’t think you know what hideous is.” He leaned over her and placed several small kisses along her shoulders, his hands coming behind her to trail his claws down the pattern of spots before cupping her ass and pulling her tightly against him. “You look absolutely delicious.”

The heat between her legs rekindled at his words and she aggressively began kissing him again, growling a bit when he responded in kind, biting at her lower lip. She got back to work undressing him, finding his belt buckle and making quick work of it, before untucking his shirt from his pants and working first at his bow tie and then at his shirt buttons.

In seconds she had everything undone and began yanking his shirt off him the same way she had made quick work of his jacket.

She broke the kiss to get a glimpse of the present she had just unwrapped and then took pause, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before her.

“I told you, you don’t know what hideous is,” Alastor said, in a quiet, calm voice, but his smile was the smallest she had ever seen it.

Mina touched some of the scars etched into the skin of his chest. There were dozens of them, all jagged and irregular, many of them clearly made by teeth. Scars were so rare in Hell, as Sinners always healed eventually from their injuries, unless they were made by very specific weapons or magic.

She didn’t find them to be hideous at all but they made her incredibly sad, even before she knew the cause.

“What happened to you?” she finally asked.

“Nothing. Not since my death, at least,” he answered. “I was quite far gone by the time the dogs started in on me, I didn’t feel any of it. Who knows how or why we take the forms we do as souls.”

Mina thought back to her own last moments of life there on the beach, the jaguar’s weight on her, and the teeth that ripped open her neck. She must have seemed very foolish to Alastor for being insecure about her spots. It really dawned on her then, that though he was a powerful Overlord now, he was once a human like she had been. Fragile, mortal, and very capable of succumbing to violence.

She ran her hands down his chest and then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him as close as possible, and buried her face in his chest, kissing several of his scars as she did so. The hurt in her heart for the life he had led, and the way he had died, settled in her chest like a knife.

“Mina,” he whispered, soothing her, and guided her chin upwards, as he leaned down to capture her lips with his own.

The rest of their clothes were divulged more slowly after that, each item being removed as if exposing the most precious gift imaginable. They explored each other’s bodies with near worshipful touches, delighting in the similarities and differences. They caressed each other’s ears, admired the way their limbs almost matched in skin tone, as they each darkened at the elbows and knees, down to fingertips and toes. Mina stroked his antlers with her hands, as her mouth found a sensitive spot on his neck, and her toes playfully ran across his hooves that began at the balls of his feet.

They were lying in bed together then, on top of the still made-up quilt and both completely naked, his erection teasing her as she felt it against her stomach, making her ache for more. He was busy still tasting every inch of her skin that he could get a hold of when she noticed a surprise flicker of red in the corner of her eye and peered down his backside, getting the first good look of what would soon become her favorite piece of his anatomy; the little secret only she was ever able to know about him.

“You have a tail!” she gasped out in surprise.

He made something between a groan and a sigh, his mouth occupied with sucking and biting at her right breast.

“Alastor!” she squealed and pushed at his shoulders until he relented.

“Unfortunately so,” he huffed, not enjoying the interruption as much as she was.

“Let me see it,” she said, trying sit to up.

“Later,” he said, keeping her down.

“Please,” she pouted, “you see mine all the time.”

“Yours is not an insult to your character,” he replied, not budging.

She reached her own long tail around, using it to stroke the back of one of his calf muscles.

“Pleeeaase,” she said, sultrier this time.

He reached and snatched at her tail, sliding his hand down it until he had it by tip, and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before letting it go, and settling his weight on top of her with finality.

“I said ‘later’.”

“Tease,” she said before he quieted her mouth with his own, and then reached between them and down between her thighs. A finger spread through her already wet folds, easily stroking her up and down from opening to clit.

“Oh, fuck,” she panted against his mouth, feeling the vibration of his low chuckle, clearly pleased with the reaction he was getting from her.

No one had ever touched her that way, besides herself. Every other time for her had just been a quick fuck, the man taking what he wanted with her until he was finished. It was always just enough to leave her desiring more but completely unsatisfied, like an itch that was never properly scratched.

She was almost mortified when she felt herself begin to purr but Alastor quickened his pace, circling her clit in tighter, faster circles, spurred on by her reaction. It was enough of a sign from him that he liked her purring, so she relaxed and let her body react the way it wanted to.

Then he began working his way down her body, kissing her neck, spending a moment at each breast, and then her stomach. Her nerves got the better of her when he tried to go lower, and she shot upright moments before he settled his face between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He looked mortified at her reaction, eyes wide and smile strained.

“Do you not like that?” he asked, reaching out for her hips. She let his hand settle there, thankful for the reassuring touch, but still felt tense and unsettled.

“You-you don’t have to do that,” she stammered.

His eyes stayed steadily on hers. “I know I don’t have to, Mina. Why don’t you want me to?”

“Men don’t . . . men don’t do that to women,” she said, sounding naïve even to her own ears, but she just couldn’t fathom being on the reciprocating end of oral.

He seemed to relax a little as understanding came to his features.

“I promise you, the good ones do,” he said, guiding her back to laying down beneath him.

She followed but was still insecure.

“You don’t have to,” she repeated, but his mouth was already on the flesh of the inside of her thigh, making her shiver with desire and nerves.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But please, allow me to try?” he asked, peering up from her, mouth only inches from her sex. When she gave a small, hesitant nod, she felt the breath of his sigh warming her flesh before his mouth was on her and she was suddenly very okay with what he was doing.

His tongue matched the rhythm his fingers had made moments before, alternating between long strokes and quick circles. Although she had no experience with it, Mina knew there was no getting better at this than he was. She felt her face heating up as the pleasure overwhelmed her, overstimulating her senses until she was no longer purring, just gasping for air and moaning loudly. She felt tingly from head to toe and when he shifted his weight so that he could curl two fingers inside her, stroking her walls as he sucked at her clit, Mina reached down and took hold of his antlers, watching him work her until she began to see stars. Within seconds she was cumming hard; a deeper, longer orgasm than she had ever experienced.

She collapsed back on the bed, breathing deeply as she felt her body going limp. Alastor had released her from his mouth, wiping his chin with his free hand, and she had a moment where she realized she hadn’t felt the sharpness of his teeth or his claws during that whole wonderful experience, before he was crawling back up her, repeating in reverse the kissing trail up her body until he was back at her mouth. There was a slight lingering scent and taste of her own sex on his face, and surprisingly to her, it only helped turn her on all over again.

It was then she noticed his fingers were still inside of her, and as he lazily stroked his tongue against hers in a deep, sensual kiss, he began moving his fingers again. Long, slow movements, right at the shallow part of her entrance, curling his fingers so that the pads of his fingertips put just the right pressure on that sensitive internal part she barely had registered the existence of before that evening.

Mina moaned against him as he worked her up again, impressively fast, considering she could still feel the aftereffects of her first orgasm.

Right as she was beginning to feel her walls clench at his fingers in earnest, he pulled away from her and settled his weight differently until their hips were perfectly aligned.

“May I?” he asked, but she was already spreading her legs to wrap around him.

“Oh please,” she begged, feeling the tip of him right at her entrance. “Please, please, please,” she whispered.

He was big and now she truly understood his need for foreplay with her in order to prepare her to take him. He guided himself in until he was buried as deep as he could go, the girth and length of his cock stretching her to the point of stinging for a moment before she felt herself relaxing. Alastor looked into her eyes as if searching for any change of heart or hesitation from her. Finding nothing but wanton eagerness in her expression, he began to move.

Mina would later find him to be a rather quiet lover, not one for dirty talk or frequent noises in general, but he did moan quite audibly with that first thrust; a low sound, the static affect breaking it up and making it sound much deeper than his normal voice. She cradled the back of his head as he breathed into her neck, stroking the base of his ears and playing with the soft tufts of fur there.

Together they found a rhythm, a lovely friction that completely filled her up, stroked her inner walls, and rubbed against her clit just right when their hips came together. Mina would never understand why missionary was considered such a ‘vanilla’ position. She loved being face to face with Alastor like this, watching his eyes go black with desire, while also being chest to chest, and hip to hip. He was everywhere, holding her, on top of her, filling her up. No other position could give her this kind of intimacy and paired with the physical pleasure of it, it was perfect for their first time together.

She was so close now, feeling right on the edge of her second orgasm but she needed just a little more. Changing the tilt of her hips, she was able to relax her hips into spreading wider, encouraging Alastor to go deeper and harder into her. He responded immediately to the lusty noises she made as the change in angle built her up, stretching her to the point of nearly being painful, and it was delicious. Her orgasm slammed into her, making her clench hard onto his cock and it was all she could do but whimper as it seemed to continue on forever. Letting go of her grip on the mix of hair and fur near the base of his ear, her hand found an antler again, surprised and aroused that it had grown much thicker and longer as he chased his own completion.

Her body finally began to relax as she came down from her orgasm, just beginning to feel the first stages of overstimulation, when his movements became erratic, and she felt the stinging bite of his teeth into the flesh in the crook of her collarbone as he came inside her. For the first time, without the worry of pregnancy involved in the act, she found she loved the sensation of his cock twitching inside her as he coated her walls with his seed, making her feel incredibly satisfied. She basked in the feeling of being bred; the feminine pride of being claimed, by both his cum and his bite.

Alastor was slowly coming down from his own high; his antlers retreated back to their usual two-pointed form, the blackness in his eyes returning to their normal shade of red.

“I’m sorry,” he panted but she was already purring again. “Was that too . . .”

He trailed off, and she brushed her nose against his, until he gave a soft laugh and responded with the same motion and kissed her.

“I like you like that,” she said. “You can do that to me again, anytime you want.”

They smiled at each other, like the two idiots absolutely smitten with each other that they were, and enjoyed another tender kiss before Alastor finally pulled out of her and shifted onto his side. Mina snuggled into his arms, burying her face into his scarred chest, and began purring in earnest as he lazily stroked her hair and the backs of her ears.

In post orgasmic bliss, they fell into a light sleep like that, still on top of the blankets and tangled up in each other.

A short while later, Mina began to stir, feeling a chill against her bare skin as the heat of their lovemaking finally dissipated from her body. Alastor moved against her, also waking up, and Mina smiled when she noticed the sound of a radio humming to life that accompanied him when he awoke. As much as she would come to love watching him sleep, she would always find that little sound affect to be the most fucking adorable thing about him.

That, and his tail.

She sat upright.

“Alright, love. Let me see it.”

His eyebrows came down in a frown, already knowing what she was asking for, and was not amused.

“I’d rather you join me in the bath,” he said, trying to lure her into something else. Anything else, really.

“You said you’d let me see it!” she whined.

“I only recall specifically using the word ‘later.’ I did not specify when that would be.”

“Alastor,” she said sternly.

“Fine,” he huffed but then continued to lay where he was rather than moving and making it easier to see.

“Well?” she asked, gesturing for him to move.

“I am neither standing for this, nor will I lay on my stomach. This is not a physician’s exam and I refuse to make this anymore humiliating for me.”

“Jaysus Christ, you are a child,” she huffed and got up on her knees so she could more easily peer over him to see his backside.

He curled forward and bit her on her outer thigh, making her jump and squeal, but she didn’t relent.

There it was, in all its fluffy glory, red like his hair but with a black stripe along the bottom side where most deer had stripe of white. It was . . . really cute. But she would never tell him that as it would devastate his massive but fragile ego, and she had a feeling that was exactly why he hid it from view.

She reached over and touched it, feeling the incredible softness for only a second before he reacted viscerally, turning around and grabbing at her hand.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“Sorry,” she said, immediately regretting it. “I’m sorry. If it really bothers you that much, I am. Really sorry.”

He sighed, relaxing at her apology, and pulled her down with him to return to the position they had been in before.

She peppered his chest with kisses, purring again as it seemed to soothe him, and listened as his thundering heart began to slow down. He really was incredibly insecure about that tail of his.

“You know,” she dared, once she was sure he had finally calmed all the way down, “you might like it being touched if you just let me try again.”

He rolled on top of her, kissing her hard and pressing her into the mattress, before standing up and leaving her in bed.

“Ready for that bath?” he asked, holding his hand out to her, completely ignoring her statement.

Next Chapter ->

She took it, eagerly following him out of the room, enjoying the full view of his tail and naked backside that it awarded her, but she didn’t dare try to touch it again . . . that night.

@saccharine-nectarine, @inuhalfdemon

[blackenedsnow]

Do you think you can write anything where Chucky/Charles cheers the reader up? Especially if it was related to her(reader) feeling fat and unattractive, you know. Just some fluff

killer confidence

WARNING: Mention of insecurities related to body image

PAIRING: Chucky & (Fem) Reader

NOTE: I'm so glad I'm finally getting requests ughh!! Thank you for your ask. I hope this is alright!

SUMMARY: Feeling insecure about your appearance, especially your weight, you try to hide those feelings, but Chucky, always observant in his twisted way, notices something's off.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, frowning as your eyes scanned over every flaw you thought you could see. The shirt you were wearing felt tight today, tighter than usual, clinging to your body in ways you didn’t like. Your pants felt snug, and no matter how many times you tugged at the fabric, trying to loosen it, nothing helped. You sighed, pulling at your shirt again, wishing you could just disappear.

“What the hell’s your problem?”

You startled, turning around to see Chucky sitting on the edge of the dresser, arms crossed and a bemused smirk on his face.

“Nothing,” you muttered, turning back to the mirror and running your hands over your midsection again, hoping that maybe this time it would look different. “Just… don’t feel great today.”

Chucky raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering just a bit. “Oh yeah? What’s eating at you now?”

You hesitated, not really wanting to talk about it. How could you explain the constant insecurity, the way your mind twisted every reflection into something worse, something uglier? You already felt ridiculous for letting it get to you so much.

“It’s stupid,” you finally said, waving your hand dismissively. “I just feel… fat. Ugly. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Chucky snorted, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—something that wasn’t just mockery. “That’s what you’re worried about? Jesus, you women and your body image shit. It’s always the same thing.”

You glared at him, expecting some snide comment or cruel joke. That was his usual way of handling things, after all—harsh humor, crude remarks. It was just who he was.

But instead, he surprised you.

“You know, you’re the only one who sees yourself like that,” Chucky said, hopping down from the dresser and sauntering over to you. “I don’t know where you’re gettin’ this idea that you’re ‘fat’ or ‘ugly’ or whatever the hell’s goin’ on in that head of yours, but it’s complete bullshit.”

You blinked, turning to face him fully now, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. “You… think so?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I think so. You think I’d hang around here if you weren’t worth looking at? C’mon, give me a little credit. I’ve got standards.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Leave it to Chucky to make a compliment sound like an insult.

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself for getting a reaction out of you. “See? That’s better. You’re too busy worrying about what you think you look like to realize you’ve got nothing to be whining about.”

“But I don’t feel—” you started, but Chucky cut you off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You don’t feel like you look good. You’re stuck in that shitty little brain of yours, obsessing over crap that doesn’t matter. But let me tell you somethin’, sweetheart—none of that changes the fact that you're not fuckin' ugly, no matter what you think.”

Your face flushed at his blunt words. “Chucky, you really—”

“—need to stop bein’ so goddamn nice? Yeah, I know.” He shrugged, pacing in front of you with his usual swagger. “But let me make this clear. I’ve seen a lotta people in my time—real sickos, gorgeous dames, ugly bastards, you name it—and you? You’re a damn knockout compared to most of ‘em.”

You felt your heart lift slightly at his words, despite how gruff they were. “You really think that?”

Chucky rolled his eyes again but nodded, a grin creeping back onto his face. “Hell yeah, I do. You think I’d bother stickin’ around if you weren’t worth it? I may be a killer, but I’m not blind.”

You laughed softly again, the weight of your earlier insecurity starting to fade under his strangely endearing pep talk.

“And another thing,” he said, pointing at you with that little plastic hand. “If anyone tries to tell you otherwise? I’ll gut ‘em, no questions asked. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m sure you would.”

“Damn right.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Thanks, Chucky. I mean it. I guess I’ve just been in my head a lot lately.”

"Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now," he grumbled, though there was a hint of a grin on his face. "But seriously, stop tearing yourself down. You’ve got better things to focus on—like helping me figure out how to take out the neighbors. That guy across the street’s been pissing me off for weeks."

You snorted. "Yeah, I’ll get right on that."

Chucky nodded, satisfied. "Good. And hey, if you ever start feeling like this again, just remember: I don’t hang around fuckin' losers. You’re stuck with me, so that should tell you something."

It was probably the closest thing to a compliment Chucky could manage, but it meant more than you’d expected. The tension that had been weighing on you for most of the day started to ease, and for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel quite so bad about yourself.

Maybe it was just the absurdity of getting a pep talk from a killer doll, but you actually felt a little better. And for now, that was enough.

[americaswritings]

Chocolates

Warnings: period talk

Summary: You're on your period and Neil offers you a little comfort when he sees you're having a bad day.

Words: 2.2k

Pairing: Neil Melendez x Doctor!reader

A/N: It's ridiculous how much time I wasted searching for a gif and still ending up unsatisfied. But for some reason when I search for gifs on tumblr for my writing I just get reaction memes these days. It's so annoying! Anyway, this was requested. I hope you like it and it's the way you imagined :) I really want to write more again, because it felt so good to just sit down and start typing, but life is so busy at the moment and both my physical and mental health aren't so great too! Hopefully it will all get better soon :)

You should have known it would be ‘one of those days’ when you walked into work with a belly ache, but you didn’t think much of it, hoping if you just ignored it the pain would eventually go away.

Only it didn’t. Instead it got worse, spreading into your lower back and making it hard to keep standing. All you wanted to do was sit or lie down and not move anymore, perhaps even curl over until the pain faded.

But you were on shift, the ER was buzzing and the hospital was understaffed. Sighing you grabbed the next patient’s file, scanning it quickly as you made your way over to where he was seated. Too late you realized someone was crossing your way and you bumped right into them, startling at the unexpected contact.

“Sorry!” You took a step back and glanced up at the man dressed in the blue scrubs, relieved but also a little nervous to find it was Neil Melendez. The two of you got along well, so well that it made you hope he would eventually ask you out.

But he hadn’t yet and you didn’t have the heart to do it yourself, fearing the humiliation of a rejection since you would have to keep working together.

Neil teased you and he flirted with you, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He was naturally charming. Still you hoped for the moment to come, your heart always losing its steady rhythm for a second when you laid eyes on him.

“It’s nothing.” He smiled at you and you tried to reciprocate it, but a sharp pain in your belly made your face twist in pain instead. “Well, I should get going”, you said once the pain had ebbed a little, but you didn’t make it far as Neil held you back by your elbow.

“You okay?” His brows were knitted and he watched you with a frown, his eyes darting over your face before he locked eyes with you again. You drew in a breath, tensing a little at the proximity and trying to ignore your galloping heart.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, you brushed it off, this time managing a smile. You saw Neil slightly narrow his eyes at you, but before he could say anything else you offered him a nod and hurried away.

-

You had never looked so much forward to your break, the imagination of finally sitting down and eating a meal keeping you going for the rest of the morning. But just as you handed over your last patient’s file, planning to head to the cafeteria, a voice called you back.

It was Dr. Lim. She was marching over to you and you could tell from her face she wanted something from you.

Not now.

“What is it?”, you asked, once she came to stand beside you, not hiding your frustration. The other doctor looked at you surprised, before holding an iPad out to you. “The imaging and report from Mr. Wellington’s CT just came in.”

You let your eyes flicker over it, not finding anything worth this fuss. “And?”, you asked, sounding as impatient as you felt to get held back. “That’s what I thought too”, Audrey continued unbothered, “but then I found this.” She used her fingers to zoom in on it.

“See this shadow?”

You squinted your eyes. “Could be anything.” “Right, but it looks like a small tumour. I already ran a biopsy. The results should be in soon.”

You glanced up at her, waiting for her to come to the point. When she didn’t say more you sighed. “So? Why are you showing me this?”

“Okay-“, Audrey snapped the iPad’ case shut, handing it over to the nurse’s desk, “Someone’s in a mood today!”

You winced under her glare, regretting how harsh you had sounded. It wasn’t her fault you were having a bad day and she didn’t deserve your attitude. “Sorry.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale, trying to push away your annoyance. You really didn’t want to argue with Audrey today. Especially not over something stupid like this.

“It’s just-” You opened your eyes again, gesturing at the busy ER. “-My back is killing me and I have the worst cramps and I just want to lay down and suffer in silence.”

You let out a chuckle at your dramatic words and the way they came out as if they had been at the tip of your tongue only waiting to slip out, which probably wasn’t far from the truth, and Audrey offered you a sympathetic smile. “That time of the month?”

You nodded, surprised that you didn’t feel embarrassed to talk about it with her. Audrey always seemed so strong and unbothered and you couldn’t imagine her whining over a stupid period. But she seemed to know exactly what you were talking about.

“The mood swings are the worst for me. You might know I’m not the most patient person out there-”, you grinned, thinking of the many incidents she had proven what a short temper she coud have, “but during that time? You really don’t want to pick a fight with me then!”

You laughed. It was just too easy to imagine. “I bet Melendez and Andrews have made that mistake.” Audrey’s face lit up. “Oh, trust me they have!” She shook her head, smiling. “And they learn from it.”

“As they should”, you nodded, “at least they don’t have to attempt 12-hour shifts while it feels like their insides get twisted inside-out.”

Audrey laid her hand on your lower arm, squeezing lightly. “Ibuprofen’s your best friend. And if you ever need to take a break and lay down just tell me.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat and you had to will back your tears. Damn hormones! “Thank you.” You hoped she could hear how sincere you were, the thought of having an escape providing you with relief strong enough to give you a little energy back.

“We women have to stick together.” Audrey squeezed your arm again, before retreating and you looked after her for a moment, grateful to have a friend in her.

-

When you had finally made it to the cafeteria, your pager had gone off right as it had been your turn to order. “You can’t be serious”, you muttered as you pulled it out and read it. “Hey, are you going to order or what?”, you heard someone ask behind you, but without another word you took off, praying you would make it to your patient in time.

Luckily you had. But afterwards you had been pulled right into another case and before you knew it, it had grown dark outside and your stomach was growling at you.

The cafeteria was long closed and so you got a chocolate bar from the vending machine, promising yourself to get real food once you were off the clock.

The ER had quietened down as it often did at the end of your shift and since you had never taken your break you allowed yourself a moment to take a breath in the resident’s lounge.

Although you weren’t a resident anymore you still liked to come here. Perhaps it was the closeness to Neil’s office or the quiet it provided at the end of the day when the residents had all gone home. There was no one who could tell you off as you curled up on the sofa.

The chocolate tasted heavily in your mouth and you devoured it until the last crumb. “You look like you just fell in love.”

“Huh?” You glanced up, to find Neil at the door, casually entering the room and coming to stand in front of you.

He gestured towards the wrapper you had placed on the table. “The chocolate.”

Oh. You let out a chuckle as you realized you had stared at it longingly while you had contemplated whether it was reasonable to get up and get another one or if it wasn’t worth the effort it would take to search for a vending machine.

“That was probably the best chocolate I’ve ever had”, you declared and Neil chuckled. “Your standards are very low then.” You tried to look offended but failed. “Don’t speak ill of the vending machines. They are real life savers. And it’s been a tough day.”

You said it lightly, but you saw Neil’s jaw twitch at the last part. “What happened?”

He walked over to where you were sitting and you shuffled to the side to make space for him. He leaned against the armrest, his body angled towards yours. “Nothing I-”

But suddenly tears were clouding your eyes as all the emotions you had bottled up threatened to spill over. “Damn it!” You wiped at your eyes before the tears could spill, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You didn’t need to look at Neil’s face to see the worry on it.

“Sorry”, you let out an embarrassed chuckle and Neil smiled at you softly. “I’m usually not this emotional. It’s been a long day that’s all.”

“You have had longer ones and didn’t bat an eye.” It wasn’t an accusation, only genuine confusion on Neil’s part and your heart swelled at the hidden compliment and how much he cared to understand you.

“Yeah”, you muttered, closing your eyes as another cramp hit you. When you opened them again you hoped your face hadn’t betrayed you and given away your discomfort, but the disadvantage at working so closely together was that Neil could read you by now.

Before he could make any wild guesses, you decided to just tell him the truth.

You didn’t have to be embarrassed about it, shouldn’t feel that way, yet it was easier said than done. You didn’t want him to think you couldn’t take the hardships of the job, that you were weak or dramatic. But even as you thought it you knew Neil would never think that of you.

Or anyone.

He wasn’t like that, wasn’t intimidated by strong willed women or the reality of what it was like to be one.

Taking a long inhale and an even longer exhale you looked up at him. “I got my period this morning and I’ve been in pain all day.” Now that you had gotten the words out you suddenly had the urge to let it all out.

“And my back is like- so bad. But the cramps are the worst. And I snapped at Audrey. And then again at Glassman. And I almost bawled my eyes out when my patient made it out of surgery and his wife came to see him. And this-”, you gestured at yourself, “is the first break I have gotten all day and I don’t think I’m ever gonna stand up again.”

You stared at Neil in shock for a moment as you realized what had just happened, but then you let out a laugh. “Wow and that just came out like one long sentence!”

Neil chuckled in amusement. “That seems like a really crappy day”, he agreed and you nodded in relief that he seemed to take it serious. “Right? I mean, there are worse things, obviously, but still-” You clutched your belly again, letting out a hiss of pain.

When you looked back up Neil had shifted closer to you, his frown back in place. “Why didn’t you call in sick?”

“Really?” You shook your head, amused and a little frustrated. “I can’t just call in sick every month.”

“It’s this bad every month?”

You nodded. “Most of the time, yeah. Sometimes it’s better, other’s it’s worse. But that’s just how it is.”

Neil face twisted, clearly displeased with what you had said or the situation, perhaps both. “It shouldn’t be like that”, he said then and you looked at him for a moment, taking in his sincerity. “I mean, yeah”, you agreed after a moment. “What, you want to change the whole system now?”

Neil’s mouth curled up in the hint of a smile. “Not tonight, no. I have better plans.”

Your face fell a little as you felt a hint of disappointment at his words. Maybe he was just hanging out with friends or visiting his sister you tried to reason. But the thought of him having plans with another woman gnawed at you.

“Really? What could be better than that?”, you asked teasingly and he tipped his head towards you. “Someone needs to show you what real chocolate tastes like.”

Oh. Your hope arose so strongly you almost forgot to breathe for a moment. “And my sofa is even more comfortable than this one.” He patted the couch you were seated on, not breaking eye contact once.

You still looked at him in shock, unable to form words as you processed his. “You’re baiting me with chocolate?”, you asked once the shock had faded a little, cautious not to put too much weight into his words and Neil grinned. “I do give great massages too. I cook. And I have a big movie collection to distract you from, you know, the pain and all that.”

You smiled widely at him. “Now that wins me over”, you stated, although the thought of spending time alone with Neil was already enough. But it didn’t make his promises less appealing. And it made you feel warm inside to know how much he cared and that he had put so much thought into what he could do to make you feel better.

“Great.” He stood up. “So it’s a date?” For the first time he sounded nervous and it made your heart flutter to know it was because of you. That this, whatever it was between you, mattered to him too.

“It’s a date.”

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[jacklucian2000]

꣑୧Wesker x Fem!Reader - car troubles꣑୧

Warning smut !!

The cold rain poured against the hard glass of your car. Your headlights caught onto nothing but the empty road. The road was empty, you were slightly wet from being out in the rain, the car was still heating up and no one would see if you hit the gas a little. Slowly a sixty went to a seventy and a seventy went to an eighty. You could feel the speed of your car. It was freeing and exciting. It wasn’t so exciting when your vehicle had to come to a stop—a hard stop against the body of a human. As much of an empath as you were, the only thought you had was an unthoughtful one to help them and hope their family doesn’t press charges. You walked out of your car slowly and with a slight jump. Your mind already flashed images of a gray body with a bloody broken neck. It probably wouldn’t just be the neck that was broken. You peeked around and there was a man, hunched over, freezing cold. You were petrified at his survival. Were you drunk? Was this real? You felt that you should poke the body with a stick but there was no doubt in your mind that that man was alive. You stepped forward, his gaze following you. 

“Could I… hitch a ride?” The man grimaced. As you were left clueless, Wesker found himself injured and vulnerable. He was weak. He shouldn’t provoke a situation he had no control over to become worse. His powers were new he didn’t know how much his body could take. Whether getting impaled was a one-time deal.  

“Uhh, sure…” You looked around. He looked fine. Would the court believe him if he pressed charges against you for hitting him with a speeding car? The man stumbled into your backseat and you looked to see your bumper was dented. You repeated after the man to start your car and drove forward for a bit. The rain began to turn to snow. It was cold and getting colder. Your car stopped and smoke rose out of your front car hood. You tried to start it again but nothing happened. You walked out and opened your hood the man came out and opened the cap to your coolant. 

“You used water in your cooling tank during a blizzard?” The man was crossed and you felt ashamed. You looked down then looked back up. 

“It’s not your car.” 

“You’re my ride.” 

“You’re the one walking in the blizzard.” You mumbled.

“What?” 

“Huh? Nothing. If I have service I can call a towing company.”

“I can just walk.” 

“I don’t think whatever is infecting you will survive the cold.” Wesker turned around.

“What do you mean?” He grimaced.

“It’s cold. I don’t think you’d make it that far.” Wesker sighed. He could feel it. He could feel the virus plaguing him. It was retreating his body, becoming dormant. He was hallucinating now. He needed the virus. He needed to be warm. He needed to help the virus. He needed the virus to help him survive. His injuries were too grave not to have assistance from his outworldly companion. He walked back to the car and entered the back of it. The heat was slowly leaving the vehicle. He lay across the backseat feeling his body slowly die. You paid no mind as you were on your phone trying to get reception. The closer to the woods you were the better reception you had. Finally, on the edge of the forest, you were able to call. A husk man’s voice answered. 

“Arklay County towing company.” 

“My car is dead on the road. Could you tow it?” 

“Yeah, where?” 

“Ninth Street?”

“Outside our towing building?”

“Can I put you on hold?” You walked to the car and opened the door of the car. “Hey sir, what street are we on?” 

“Sir? You look the same age. And you act like there isn’t a road sign two feet from here!” You looked over the car and uncovered the speaker of your phone. 

“We’re on…” you squinted your eyes. Your glasses never really matched your prescription. “I think Oswell Street.” 

“You think?” 

“Make sure they know what street you’re on.” The man in the car remarked. You turned your attention back to your phone. 

“Yeah, Oswell Street. O- S-” 

“Ok, I’m sending a guy.”

“N-Near the Arklay Mountains and it’s next to that one mansion from the old guy.” You looked around for more landmarks but when you glanced down at your phone he had already hung up on you. You opened the door of the car once again. “ Are you cold?” 

“Yes.” 

“I think I have some blankets in the back. Do you want some?” 

“Yes!” The man shouted. You walked to the back of the car. It was random camping equipment your brother put in the car. He acted like it was his car. You threw the sheets into the back seat and then entered with him. 

“Do you want my jacket?” The man scowled but nodded. 

“So what fool puts water in their coolant tank?” 

“Me.” 

“I’m asking for a name.” 

“Sheryl?” 

“Really?” 

“No.” You paused. “ I’ve been told I share too much information with others. Your name?” 

“John Doe.” 

“Oh.”

“My name is Albert Wesker, I’m the captain of the Raccoon city police.” You smiled at Wesker cheeky and merry. You snuggled under the blankets with him and felt his hot breath crawling down your neck. 

“Do I have your consent?”

“Huh?” 

“Do-”

“We don’t know each other.” 

“It might be the last time I see you.” Wesker could only think of what would happen to him if the law took a hand. He’d find himself escaping prison and gaining a high profile. 

“Can I have your phone number?”

“When I find a pen and some paper I’ll give it to you.” You nodded and at that point, you were exercising your patience. He rested his hand on your hip and softly kissed your lips. You pressed your body against his and let him lead. He pushed you below him and slid his hands up your shirt. He felt your tender breast and rubbed his thumbs over your nipples and pressed down, squeezing. His hands paid attention to your chest as his knee found its way between your thighs pressing against your groin. You clenched your thighs around him as you would a pillow in your night awake. He kept his mouth occupied with yours but his hands moved down to unbutton your skirt. He pulled it down and then pressed his palm against your clitoris as his fingers penetrated your wettened entrance. With no patience left, he unbuttoned his pants only letting out his cock. You could feel its warmth against your quim. He began pushing the tip in. You felt a sense of pain but he could tell. He tried a different angle and finally moved his lips down to your neck. You could feel his glare traveling out the window then back down finding comfort in the crevice of your shoulder. He tried to penetrate again this time it went in pleasurably. It felt uncomfortable but good. He started slow as you got used to that odd feeling that was neither arousal nor pain. He pushed in deeper and there you felt it. As he felt the walls clench he pulled out to force back in. You moaned at the unexpected action. He went back out and forced back in you. You repeating the same moan. A throaty growl as he hit the end of what there was. His pace quickened and he threw your legs above his shoulder and pressed them forward against you. He only went faster your moans gaining pace as well. You couldn’t control it. You wanted to pull back but you forced yourself to remain still. The feeling of being so controlled was so arousing. Wesker had nothing but control. His grip on your thighs. His teeth biting down on your neck. The steam your body’s created. It laster shorter than expected. Your walls constantly squeezed around him and he released deep inside. The moment held still in a shaky pleasure with a complete moan that was released as well as your orgasms. His body slowly fell and rested upon you. You used one of the blankets as a pillow as you rested back. Hours passed and a man knocked on your window. You were freezing and seemed not to mind. You pulled up your skirt from under the blanket and went out to talk to the man. 

Days passed and you and Wesker kept in slowly dying contact. He seemed to be less interested as the two of you spoke. Wesker felt anxious every time you’d text. He couldn’t know why but eventually your conversations halted and all contact was lost.

[mariamariquinha]

Bossa Nova (Benny 'Borracho' Magalon x f!reader) - Ten

Nine

Summary: Benny's pov (my boy is so stressed).

Word count: 7.482.

Warnings: Bad words, slightly talks about cop corruption, violence, crime, talks about mental/physical health, mention of use of pills, hospital environment and police work.

Author’s Note: I like my men like how I visualize myself: stressed and in need of a fucking break.

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****

If someone asked any woman who was involved with Benny at some point in their life about him, there would always be a universal phrase: he's complicated. Not 'complicated' in a 'he has a difficult and unstable life' way, because he did, but in a 'he hasn't known how to be a nice guy for a long time' way. 

Daddy issues. Classic. 

He was committed to the Major Crimes guys, especially Nick, because there was a part of him that hated to disappoint. Aside from ego or personal compensation, Benny saw a lot of his own father in Big Nick, so despite the two being almost the same age, the position of power gave O'Brien a very complex image of a patriarch – flaws and all. When Debbie left, it was clear that Nick would follow the same path as that father, with the difference that he would at least try to spend weekends with the children; Benny wouldn't be able to recognize what the 'head of his family' should be if he had to. 

It had been years since he was just Benicio Ramirez Magalon and not Benicio Ramirez Garcia Magalon, as if he erased every particle of his father from his own history in an arbitrary way, but still having that ghost on his shoulders with O’Brien. 

He didn't think much that night, but he knew it would be natural for him to walk away. It must have been the most genuinely decent thing Benny did for any woman under those circumstances. Maybe it was the fact that you knew how to set limits, that you recognized your weaknesses with an ease that Benny couldn't.

In conclusion, he was disappointed to not find you more resilient than finding out Nick slept with informants, which soon enough he caught himself being a fucking asshole. Maybe that's why, because of this lack of cynicism on your part and the excess of the same feeling on his part, Benny concluded that you were destined for good guys. Some who, at least, didn't make the decisions he made.

****

“And we have a fireplace.”

Yeah, indeed, they had a fireplace – one that was basically turning into dust. You stood there with your arms crossed, letting your mother inspect the apartment and make comments about it. While she and the realtor (a small woman named Eidra) went back to one of the bedrooms, you sat on the small bench left behind on the miniscule living room by the last residents, watching your father look through the window.

When you two shared a glance, the answer was all over the place: a huge and big and extreme and frustrated and disappointed no.

****

Listen, it could always get worse. That was life, you know? And you should know better than to expect that the divorce and the whole Isla stuff would pass by you. Well, it passed through you. With a delay, but still. 

Some of this was your fault, you could admit. Your brother had already advised you to negotiate the sale of the house as soon as the divorce procedures were in progress and you were so catatonic, in a way, that you didn't want to add more to what already seemed too complicated. After months, you found the buyers – good price, you made a profit. 

During Christmas, you ended up tripping over the closed moving boxes and spraining your foot, so on New Year's Eve you didn’t enjoy the trip as much as you could. A bad start to the year, but not the worst thing that happened to you in a long time. 

They were organizing a farewell party for Emma; by March, she would be at DEA headquarters leading their forensic team. You had to act surprised, and politely refused to help with the details ('I'm busy with this moving thing'), which she probably took as a bitter departure. Well, it was what it seemed to be. You didn’t call her off with that, but some part of you was feeling that pit of disgust. There was a murmur about whether or not to invite Major Crimes (even though they never attended that kind of thing), which everyone ended up looking at you for clarification. You didn't know, and that's what you said, accompanied by a modest shrug of the shoulders.

“Send an invitation by email, it's less work if they say no.”

Even because you had time to rethink the unfortunate occasions with O'Brien. You felt offended but you also felt guilty, which was a rather cruel conclusion that Nick was indirectly manipulating you. When you told Gina this, she just gave a genuine shrug and sighed.

“It isn’t like he wasn’t that kind of person before, you know.”

You felt bad – you felt used again. Doubted, discredited. And the fact that you thought you wouldn't care if it happened, that you would be as strong as you had been through the divorce, just showed that you had an ability to lie to yourself. Benny left that night and you knew he had the same realization too; you found yourself believing that the opinion of someone who still followed such strict orders from someone like Nick had no opinion value in your life.

You no longer fit into LASD.

****

“You have insomnia and lack of nutrients. I'll prescribe you some pills and vitamins for both, but I need you to pump the brakes. Burnout has been killing people lately.”

Perhaps, deep down, you knew that this distancing also came with your need to hide that your physical health had worsened. It wasn't that bad, but you had barely been eating and… yeah, you really didn't need another surprise with so much going on.

The doctor pondered something, eyeing the papers and you with a serenity that was closer to reticence. You waited, shoulders slumped and eyes heavy, lacking energy to ask anything else. 

“... This seems like a pattern. The lack of sleep, your headaches… Have you considered another type of approach?”

Long short story, no. And he probably knew that too, since you were there and not in a therapist's office, so you saw him lean over the desk and give you one of those scolding looks.

“It’s very normal for people in your profession to have this type of behavior. Considering what has happened in your personal life, I would advise a psychological reevaluation.”

“I’m not depressed.”

But he hadn't hinted at it, or said anything like that out loud, which only made it all make more sense. He sighed in defeat, then signed the recipe and, alongside with it, put a flier about mental health just in case.

The medicines would be an unforeseen additional expense, but it should give you some peace of mind. At least you hoped so. 

****

“Yes.”

“Bad time?” Gina sounded quite confused on the other end of the line, so you frowned at her tone and stuffed the pills into your bag irritably, the breeze not doing much to cheer up your mood. It wasn't even summer anymore, but the day still felt unbearably hot.

“I’m not on my peak, no.”

Gina went quiet for a bit. In the background, you could hear the noise of people coming and going, as if she were in a crowded place. Calmly, you backed up the sidewalk until you were under the awning of the pharmacy you had just left, switching your phone from ear to ear to hear her better. 

“... What was it? Did someone die?” 

“Where are you right now?”

“I am…” You looked over your shoulder, then at the sign of the pharmacy printed right above your head. “Had to run some errands.”

“How far are you from the Good Samaritan?”

“Good Samar-Gina, I was joking about-”

“You won't believe who's here.”

****

He had been quiet since he arrived and it was understandable. Apart from the answers he gave to the police, there was not much interest in having any type of social interaction, which was respected: it was not as if he was or should have been accustomed to the context in which he was placed.

It was different from the other cases they had been following, Z mentioned. Maybe a slip, but no one could be sure because they weren't experts in psychological profiles and the idea of ​​involving the feds was out of the question. For a lot, there was intuition, experiences on the streets, informants… Murph had already checked, there was a strong lead and they were almost there.

No one wanted to mention the damn coincidences that led them to that hospital and, more precisely, the crime scene. Gina, perhaps, had reacted in some way that revealed a truth that no one wanted to verbalize, and Nick asked them to keep an eye on her – Emma’s leaving, until further notice these people would be a bit of a smartass. 

But what would Gina do, anyway? If she could? Would she call you of all people and ask you to pray for your ex's life? 

Still, Benny stood guard at the hospital until Gina finished work and kept an eye on the news, or at least Twitter. If you had known about it, there would already have been news on the internet and, if you had appeared, taken by an immaculate concern towards the tragedy, you would’ve already done so. All in all, the reason why everyone was on their last strings was how you going there could be harmful to the case.

Maybe that was the problem, after all: he didn't know that side of you. What kind of wife you were, what kind of friend you could be. Everything was too casual, limited to observations he made and the things he remembered when you talked. There was no more karaoke, nor costume parties or Cosmopolitans in your cards or a brother to rely on; he knew these things, but none of them were valid at that moment.

So when he saw you peeking down the hall right after Gina had left (when he himself was already determined to get out of there), Benny didn't feel so surprised because he had tested the odds. Cautiously, he stood nearby, watching your diminished, secretive posture pass by the nurses' table and take slow steps to where Theodore was at. He was frustrated, in fact, and maybe a little stressed by everything, because he certainly didn't expect you to make the dumbest decision possible.

You stopped at a safe distance from the room and didn't come any closer. With a bag slung over your shoulder, you gripped the strap tightly, standing still there as you saw what was left of a guy after getting his ass beaten up, perhaps processing things that Benny would never know about. 

The girlfriend appeared: Aileen. She also hesitated when she noticed you, holding a cup of coffee in her hand as she came up from behind. At this point, Benny became more alert, ready to intervene. Interestingly, Henderson was also returning from somewhere, certainly to pick him up, and his louder voice calling your attention caused a beautiful disaster, like an announced tragedy.

You turned around too quickly, right when she was already on your trail, and hit your arm on the coffee cup that seemed hotter than expected. It hurt, of course. You screamed as the liquid burned the skin of your hand, leaning down just in time for one of the nurses to come to your aid. Aileen stood there in confusion as the liquid hit her clothes, and before Benny could take any further steps to take action, the reality that everyone was in a hospital dawned on him and he stopped.

He exchanged a glance with you as one of the nurses took you to the emergency room. 

“What the fuck, is she out of her fucking mind?” Henderson asked eventually, even if they both knew he would apologize later. 

Benny didn't answer him, however; he doubted the answer even though he thought he was aware enough of your behavior. He just watched you go in silence, both fists clenched in anger. 

****

You had your head down, your eyes still wet from the tears from the pain you had felt. The nurse had been delicate and, considering it was relatively calm, was going through the entire process in a well-rehearsed way. The emergency room was still lively, with people going from one side to the other. When you weren't watching her clean the burn, you looked up at the other patients waiting: broken arms, bloody noses.

Last time, you saw Benny with his arms crossed near the curtain that separated your space, even though it was the only one far from the others.

You knew at that moment that you were fucked.

“Boyfriend?” The nurse asked, making you eye her then him rapidly. 

“No,” You two answered in unison, to which you ended up averting your gaze in embarrassment. 

“I'd like to talk to her privately, anyway. If you don't mind,” He pressed a little, not minding the rude tone he was using. 

She eyed him, then you. With a small nod of yours, she sighed in tiredness and rolled her eyes, tidying up the bandage before leaving. 

A silence hung in the air, tense and with a hint of the impatience he was clearly feeling. You ignored this, however, glancing at your injured hand here and there before adjusting yourself better on the stretcher.

“You know, when I was a rookie I used to get quite excited with the prospect of being heard just showing my badge,” He commented, so you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, perhaps the biggest problem in America is men with damaged egos because no one cares about the size of their dicks anymore.” 

“You always seem to have a metaphor for dicks.”

“It’s a talent.”

“As is your ability to put yourself in shitty situations.”

You looked into his face for a few seconds and found an anger that, in general, seemed to be the only thing available to you from him. No more smiles or sympathy: Benny had chosen his side of the story and, really, that was fine. Still, you couldn't help but miss the other version of him as much as you did at that moment.

“I'm not going to ask who told you because that would be a really stupid question,” He took one, two steps closer to the curtain, slightly pushing it to cover the both of you. “Let's be adults and then you tell me why you came.”

Good question. Great question, actually. Why were you there? Why did you make the fucking dumb decision to be the bigger person and show up? And, by all intends, to end up with a coffee burn from… 

Yeah, it wasn’t your prime, you could give him that. 

“He wasn't just my ex husband. And I didn't want to come, but I thought I would be an asshole if I didn’t do anything.”

Benny stared at you for a long moment then; he stood there, still, eyeing you as if he was looking for something – to the point of discomfort. You averted your gaze to the floor. 

“I've read your file, did you know that? As soon as you came in and became the talk of the team, I went to find out who you were,” It made you raise your head to him, taken aback by his sudden change of subject. “First in your class, completed a specialization while still graduating. You're kind of a genius, and honestly, you had every right to be a bit of an asshole to people.”

“... You don’t need to say this,” You said.

“What should I say then?”

“I can work with nothing,” And then you snapped at him, seeing his expression shift from serenity to full annoyance. “We’ve been doing this dance very well over the last few months.” 

When he didn't offer any further comment, sighing in impatience from your stubbornness. 

“What I mean is, you're a fucking smart scientist and everything, but you still insist on being naive like that.”

“I know,” You mumbled in defeat. 

“Do you now?”

In other times, there would be a cunning answer on the tip of your tongue; hell, in other times, you wouldn't even let him or anyone talk to you like that. The point was that you were so tired of putting yourself in this position, of facing things that weren't even your business because you had been in that defensive and combative mode since things started to get out of control.

You sighed and ran your good hand over your face, rubbing away the melancholy expression.

“Do you still like him?” You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows in surprise at his question, watching the way he was so serious about it. 

“What’s that supposed to fucking mean?” 

He shrugged. 

“Means whatever.”

“I don’t like him.”

“It wasn't what it seemed.”

“Are you serious?” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “You don't know anything about my life to insinuate that kind of thing about me.”

“So answer me without sounding like I'm accusing you of something.”

“Well, then ask questions that don't sound like you're accusing me of something.”

And that seemed to have ended the argument (not the conversation), but Benny didn't move or seem willing to do anything to end the topic. 

“... What?” You asked with impatience. 

“The girl who spill the coffee on you, she-”

“Aileen,” Your interruption came with a huff, while wiggling the fingers of your bad hand. “Yes, she’s a stunning woman my ex cheated me with, if that’s what you’re trying to ask.”

“I’m not trying to ask anything,” Benny frowned. “You're the one on the defensive. I don't want to know the details, I just need to make sure you don't put yourself in the front line of something that’s none of your business.”

“He’s someone I know!”

“Are you serious right now?”

“No,” You used a firm tone, watching him go from stern to doubtful in a beat. “I’m a human being and unfortunately I’m sensitive enough to visit my ex who was beaten by a gang of robbers. Do I wish I had done something to her for what happened? Of course, but unfortunately I also like my job. And my ethics, if that matters.” 

“I just don't want to have to clean up any messes again.”

Deep down, if you really cared, you would’ve been more outraged by what he had said to you. In the end, you just became even more pissed off, so it probably meant that you were mad. The audacity, the… That seemed like the kind of thing that put him closer to what Major Crimes really was.

“... You're quite an asshole, you know that?”

He sighed, looking away and probably reevaluating a route. 

“I didn't mean it that way.”

“Sure. How lucky would I be to endure two public humiliations without having provoked them? I really must be a saint.” 

“Then I’ll be the bitch. I meant exactly what I meant,” You both shared a stare. 

In fact, he was right: you were complicating everything. If you had just done what you meant to do, maybe you wouldn't have acted so immature, but there you were, holding your ground because you were an idiot. This was so frustrating, so stupid. You didn't need to do that, you didn't need to try to be something you weren't. No one ever imposed this type of behavior on you, there was no gun in your head telling you that things should be that way. 

You felt defeated. Your physicality, your face, everything exuded the reflections of a woman well out of orbit. 

“I'm going to tell you something very honest,” He took a few steps closer, searching the eyes you’d been avoiding until you could be looking at each other again. “I want you away from this case. Not because I think you're gonna mess something up, but at this point it's clear that your judgment can prevail over the evidence.” 

It wasn't like he was wrong, so you stayed quiet.

“Nick is going to end up being pretty scathing about what happened here today, so believe me when I say that this time I'm really going to let you off the hook. You'll owe me one.” 

Again, you remained silent, which was a bit surprising since you almost always had something to say. He was there, stern, giving you a well-deserved scolding, pointing a finger in your face, and it was as embarrassing as it was incredibly satisfying. It wasn't like what happened in your kitchen or anything like that, because he was truly mad at you, not the circumstances. Without Nick, Isla, Emma; it was you and him. You were the target.

His eyes were focused on yours, because he wanted to say it in all words. They seemed even darker, more powerful compared to yours, and that made you move in shyness. It was a side of Benny you didn't know yet.

“And please wake up. That girl isn’t half the woman you are,” This shocked you even more, since he hadn't stopped looking visibly irritated while passing his eyes over your body. “Nor half-experienced.”

Okay, well, that was… Well… 

He shouldn’t have that right, did he? Why were you blinking several times and not saying anything then?

You stayed quiet – you didn’t want to embarrass yourself somehow. And with your silence, Benny just nodded while averting his gaze for a beat too long, passing a palm over his mouth with a tense sigh. 

“She's going to discharge you and I want you away from here, understand?” He murmured, both hands placed on the mattress to cage you. 

If he asked (which he clearly wouldn't), you would explain the details of your drunken confession from that first date. Benny was very intense, definitive; that was his version a little beyond what happened in your kitchen, and if you pushed a little harder, you'd notice that his eyes were darker than normal, putting you in an instant trance, whether out of fear, regret or… something else.

His eyes, at that moment when you just didn't say anything, went from your eyes to your eyebrows and then to your nose and mouth, agitated about how to actually look at you. 

“Am I understood?” Benny pressed with a growl. 

You nodded. 

“Yes or no?” 

“Yes.”

“Great.”

He walked away with some hesitation, but opened the curtain to leave with a brutality that made you jump instantly. You let out a heavy breath, bringing your injured and closed hand to your chest in a somewhat unconscious act of protection, but not necessarily because of him. Benny was right; reactive, but right. 

What the fuck were you doing in that place?

****

“Why did you do that?”

Henderson was driving back to the station when he asked. The car remained silent, with no answer for a long time, and Benny continued to stare at what he had written down of what Theodore said.

“She’s a partner. Big Nick would do the same.”

“I don't think so,” Henderson snorted. “You like her.” 

Benny didn't comment on that either, because there wasn’t anything to add. In any case, the lack of a reply said everything his friend needed to know.

****

Okay, Benny did like you a little. Amicably. At first it was purely sexual, and he even thought about bragging to Connors that he had managed to fuck you first, because he was sure he wasn't going to make it past the first date. But even with all the other interesting women he did the same thing with, the indifference you had made it for him. If it was just that, if you had drunk a little less and gone to bed with him that night, that would be fine to you; maybe you even expected the other guys would know about it. 

Then you two kissed and he didn’t mention anything to anyone. You became funnier and prettier and he noticed the things about you. Benny found out he liked the idea of it being a secretive thing, to remember how you sounded, the texture of your skin and the smell of your hair and keep it to himself. You were an irredeemable nerd, but you were rebellious: you clashed with Big Nick, you had a beautiful, huge tattoo on your leg, you smoked marijuana, you messed with other girls.

He enjoyed your closeness, whether as a friend or as a lover. It was advantageous to have you around.

Since what happened at the hospital, Benny thought about apologizing and saying that he was just upset. They were really close to get that guys, there was a lot of pressure from above after the debacle with the DEA, no one was in the thick of the fucking around. He didn't apologize despite wanting to, though, because he knew things didn't feel easy for you either.

Well, he couldn’t be sure of it, if he liked you as if in a crush or just as a person who he got along with. You made him hesitate to make some kind of mistake towards you, so what Benny could say for certain was that he liked you. Just a little.

****

“Do you know anything about this?”

You and your dad were in the kitchen washing the dishes when he asked. His tone was low, almost discreet to be heard only by you and, hopefully, distant enough for your mother to take note of the question. The room was small, very different from your old house, and the walls provided good coverage so that she, who was on the emergency stairs smoking a cigarette, was at an even safer distance.

Still, you peeked out the small window above the sink and could see the smoke rising from the exact place you saw her climbing. 

Earlier, they arrived talking about how the newspapers and Twitter had reported what had happened to Theodore. You did no more than say that Gina brought it up, but you weren't on the case and it was ethically (as well as judicially) wrong for you to get too close. Still, you tried hard to say that you knew he was okay – which your father clearly managed to see as a half-truth.

“... I went to see him at the hospital,” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the dishes in front of you, not daring to find out how he was looking at you. 

“You two talked?”

“No,” You paused. “But I saw Aileen.” 

He didn't say anything; the tap was still on, but the noise of dishes being moved had stopped. You pretended you hadn't noticed, going to the cupboard and putting away the already dry glasses, trying to stay away from the excruciating gaze you felt on the back of your head.

That silence had meaning; your father could go days without bringing up the subject waiting for you to talk about it. Like it or not, you could let him use this strategy, and you would have more time to decide how to talk about it, but your mother knew this habit better than you and, well, there was a reason why you were talking away from her. 

You closed the cabinet and turned around, moving closer to him before leaning the small of your back against the table, defensively crossing your arms. He turned off the tap, dried his hands; the worried expression never left his face.

“I was in the hallway and one of the detectives in charge called me. I turned around without realizing she was behind me, so she accidentally spilled hot coffee on my hand,” You held up your hand wrapped in the bandage.

“So you two didn’t interact? Aside from this?”

“Like in an indian soap opera, yeah,” Your answer made him hiss. “She apologized, I think. I don’t remember a lot.”

Well, it was a lie – one he could catch from a mile away. You remembered each piece of moment you could grab from that mess: the way her eyes widened at the sight of the coffee being spilled on your skin, the way she raised her hands to reach out, the pain, the step back you gave to make sure she wouldn’t get any closer and, specially, the way Benny and Henderson were watching the whole scene. 

The reason why you didn’t go into a spiral of remorse was this fact, that amongst Z or Nick, the ones who were there were the least worse. Gus was nice, polite and Benny was… Benny. And for days you expected for something, for Emma to give you one last penitence or for O’Brien to spill some shit on your face; God knew you deserved it all. It was a bad feeling. You didn't like the idea of ​​feeling embarrassed, the exposure or even your lack of reaction, but more than that, you felt torn by the idea that you hadn't felt as sorry for Theodore as you thought you would.

“It’s just… I’ve been punching myself for even going there in the first place,” You sighed in defeat, your good hand passing all over your face. 

“Maybe we raised you way too well.”

“That’s not entirely true… But not because of you, that is.”

And you knew you shouldn't have said that, at least not in those words, because then he would come with more arguments about how you should let your mother in, about how she wanted to be part of your life and how it would be better to have her as a support – as a woman-to-woman conversation would be more enlightening.

He didn’t even need to point that out, in fact; you already slipped in before he could open his mouth. 

“I think it's better not to.”

“Because she could be too harsh?”

“Because she could be too honest. I love her, dad, I really do, but I had a hell of a moment with a coworker that makes me ashamed to even look at his direction because of it. I…”

I don’t want to disappoint her again. I don’t want to be a burden. 

It was always much easier for your brother when it came to your mother: she welcomed him and they just understood each other. With you it was always a problem. She said you spent a lot of time with your dad, that you must be like this or that, that, honey, Theodore is a great kid but I don't think he'll come back after college. He returned. You got married. You got divorced and, during all the crises, you were also embarrassed to come back with your tail between your legs to say that she was right in a way. You made your brother swear under professional secrecy that he wouldn't tell her anything, but you still contained details just in case.

So no, it was better not to. It would be another shame, another thing that she would look at you with great pity, and you were tired of putting yourself in that position.

“I'm off the case anyway. Gina doesn't report to me, just like she gave the tests to the person on the other shift. There's no risk of me getting closer to Theodore again.”

“But you were looking for something when you went there. Did you find it?”

You stared straight at his eyes for a long, beating moment. 

“... I did.”

“And what was it?”

For a brief second, you could still feel the sensation of seeing Theodore beaten up, the dried blood and lowered eyes. Could see the way he seemed fine, injured but not unstable, able to still be operative, essential to the industry. 

“Relief.”

****

“I know you.”

You didn't expect it to come out so full of doubt, but you expected him to have some memory lapse in the time you had seen him.

Dr. Cillian Byrne was a professor you had at university just before you changed your major. It was in your first year, at the end of the first semester, and with the changes in the curriculum for your audiovisual expertise, you only had the chance to attend, roughly, three or four of his classes. He was a bit young for the position, people said, and when your academic psychopathy caught other people's attention, they told you the same thing. Unlike him, you never went that far. After you graduated, you joined the LASD and managed to pass the evaluation for field CSI, but with so much bureaucracy in the way, you ended up stationed in the laboratory for good.

Looking at him there, it felt like a full circle moment. You didn't connect the dots until that last name took place and you exchanged glances with Emma from afar, who just shook her head lightly as if to say you shouldn’t mention Ballard. 

“I took some classes with you in college,” You mentioned after saying your name, watching his eyebrows raise in recognition. 

“Right, I remember you. The girl who ran to the second boring stuff in CSI.” 

“The second?”

“It's the rule. First come the academics, then the laboratory rats, then the coroners and only then the self-centered field ones.”

Emma was walking towards you when he said that, so when she got closer and saw that the two of you were sharing friendly laughs with each other, she went from confused to pleased in seconds.

“It isn’t that usual to see a successor at a faraway party, but I feel like it’s going well,” She said.

The hotel ballroom was full (exaggeratedly, but fair enough) and judging by the amount of times you saw Dr. Byrne going from group to group with smiles, you could agree that he was breaking the awkwardness of being there under these circumstances. Maybe it was the mood itself. Everyone was well dressed, sipping expensive drinks they could only have on special occasions, laughing at whoever was on duty and taking photos for Facebook; the boring part could wait until the next day.

“I was telling her she’s the first familiar face I've seen here, which is a surprise,” Dr. Byrne lied, so you sipped on your soda to avoid giving that away. 

“... Oh,” Emma frowned, a confused smile fighting for its life to not make her discomfort so evident. “You do know each other, then.”

“He was one of my professors in college.”

“Almost,” He teased, eyes swiping from you to her. “I found out just after two weeks that she fled to the computers.” 

“You seem to have been upset about this,” She was the one teasing now, on the verge of embarrassment to be honest. 

“Well, when you start hearing how much this student who changed majors became one of the bests… It’s hard not to feel at least jealous, right?”

And perhaps Emma and you would talk about this in the future if it hadn't been in that sensitive context, because it was clear that Dr. Byrne had looked into everyone in the department and was perhaps doing background checks as if he were doing his homework. It was the first time in months that you and Emma exchanged a similar look, raising your eyebrows and understanding the situation right away, sharing glances with an inside joke that you hadn't told each other for a long time.

“She’s really great, I have to admit. Hurts me to leave this whole amazing team, to be honest,” She went the easy and polite way, one hand tapping on your arm. “I'm sure you'll get along great on a daily basis.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Who else would give me a better report on what’s up with the infamous Major Crimes’s gang?” 

This time, the discomfort that had been eating away at the edges and that you were able to overcome came to the surface, which made you step back with confusion close to indignation. Dr. Byrne seemed neutral despite this, smiling from ear to ear as he watched Emma unsure of what to say and then you, coming to the inevitable conclusion that he was an idiot.

“... I’m afraid that I’m not the best person to expect that. Perhaps the sheriff?” You gave one more chance to get away with the topic, but he shook his head and insisted, keeping that smile that started to scare you off a little. 

“Why wouldn't it be you? Emma told me that you all have an extensive professional partnership. Not to mention the quality of your reports on Ballard's cases.”

“Oh.”

“I just told him that you could explore more of your expertise with the complex cases they work with,” She rushed to add, the glare on your face now clear as the day.

“I see.”

“But I believe, Dr. Byrne, that I also added that she knows how to limit herself to technical reports, all personalized for each context. You saw it yourself, as she was an expert on a case with one of our most senior detectives.” 

Only then, perhaps added to the way you were no longer so interested in being friendly around the subject, did Dr. Byrne step back and nod, praising your ability to remain professional in the work environment or something. You honestly stopped paying attention, eyes swiping over your drink in hand to avoid any signs of clear embarrassment. 

“I’m really excited to start this new journey with you all. See you on Monday?” He turned to you, giving just enough time for your reaction to snap your head up and force a smile. 

“Of course. Welcome to LASD.”

You two shook hands, then he left. 

But Emma stayed. 

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Did you also mention your friendship with Walsh?” You couldn’t help the venom on your voice, which made her sigh. “Very professional, Emma. Very professional.”

“He just did the research, okay? I wasn’t intending to share everything about you guys, but he just came by with a fucking folder with all your names on it. Not to mention what the sheriff told me…” 

Not that you were in a position to speculate, much less to sympathize with whatever she had faced, but Emma lost her neutral posture as soon as he walked away, that you lost some of your irritation and eyed at her suspiciously, seeing her looking around and making sure no one would hear.

“I made a list of recommendations, but he didn't even read them and said that Byrne had already been chosen. Nick came up to me and said that-”

“You talked with Nick about it?”

“See how weird things are,” She rolled her eyes. “I think he feels threatened. Byrne is close to the sheriff, this could undermine O’Brien's freedoms.”

“And is it bad?”

“I don’t know… I mean, when you know how someone operates, it can be easy to guess, but I’ve never been around him enough to be sure of anything.”

“So you’re suspicious because of this,” You concluded and she agreed. With a deep breath, you looked around just as she did minutes before, catching sight of Cillian and Lennon talking. 

“He’s… an academic.”

“He’s a brat,” You shook your head, biting your lower lip while still staring at him from afar. “Older men, high IQs... Just the smell of testosterone bothers me.” 

“It's not like my feminine presence made any difference.”

When you looked at her again, surprised by her condescending tone, Emma was sipping her own drink with some embarrassment. You didn't know if you should give any approval, if you even had the right to do that, but you knew that it was just her trying to have a clearer conscience about what happened. Byrne was going to take over, and she admitted she had misgivings about the guy – it was noble, like a last shred of ethics in the middle of what seemed like a specifically planned transition.

“... You made it easier for Walsh to take over the case once and for all, didn't you?” 

Emma kept quiet, which was enough of an answer. Not knowing what to say, you nodded along in that silence, unsure if you were shocked or just… relieved. 

“I can understand your disbelief in Nick's methods. Take it from me, I had some problems because of it,” You conceded, so she raised her eyes at you sheepishly. “It's hypocritical to say that in parting, but I was upset that you did that knowing that Walsh would somehow throw me into the fire.” 

“You better than anyone could understand that it was an inevitable consequence.”

“I do, that’s why I never tried to make it a big deal all these months. God knows we have a lot to be forgiven for, so… Be careful with Mathias, ‘kay? Just as you’re telling me to be careful with Byrne.” 

It was the closest you and she could get to resolving the problems. In the future, perhaps, you could look at it more coldly and understand that it was too dramatic, but it wasn't the time; at the moment, the two of you have reached a consensus for the greater good.

The kind that included men with a lot of midlife crises.

****

Benny had seen the whole scene, from Byrne approaching you, the jokes he made you laugh at and even the moment he made you throw a look of disgust at him. He shouldn't even be there anymore: he had a date that night, one that would probably result in a good fuck and none of Emma's rascality. Still, as he watched you interact with those people, Benny ended up traveling in thought again.

He thought he missed what you had risked before. You were more relaxed, determined; you had no way of deciding what he was because the two of you barely knew each other. The dress you wore there was similar to the one on your first date, but not the same. If he tried, he could still feel your awkward drunken ways or, with more effort, visualize the result of an alcohol-free night like the one you were having at that party.

Deep down, Benny wanted to feel like a good guy because, for some reason, he didn't want to put you in that trophy position like he did or would do with other women. This comforted him; encouraged him. If he got closer again, if you started a relationship again, he was afraid that he would succumb to the boredom of not being able to hold on to that heroic feeling of having spared you from something toxic, that would soon hurt you or he would hurt himself.

“Are you going?” Connors asked as soon as he felt Benny shift beside him. “She’s gonna say some words.”

So he stayed, both feet firmly planted on the floor as long as he could, watching each other as Emma went up on the small improvised stage to test the microphone and you, who remained in the same place, one arm resting on the bar counter as you looked at the scene with a blank expression.

“You know, I never thought I would go through this before I was 60, but I think destiny is something impressive,” Emma said. “Having to say goodbye to you all is painful, but I know that this new phase will be transformative for all of us. In a positive way, that is.”

You passed your hand (the injured one) over your mouth, as if you were hiding a reaction even though no one other than him was paying attention to you.

“Since I'm not much of a talker and since I know I said my private goodbyes to everyone here, I'd like to recite one of the emails I received from my mentor once I got my position at LASD.”

Everyone got quiet. 

“True peace is only truly achieved when we realize that we cannot be all good and, therefore, we will be villains for some and heroes for others. It’s an unfair and cruel measure, but despite being protagonists of our own stories, our moral compass will not always point in the right direction. It’s up to us, as human beings, to embrace our weaknesses and ensure that, within our obligations, we can do our best. Therefore, our sacrifices will soon be seen as choices, which will or will not shape who we’ll be as people.”

It was only for a second, a thousandth of a second, when Emma finished that corny speech and everyone applauded, that Benny looked at you again and saw that you looked back. It shouldn't have meant anything to you, just like it did to him, but he knew that, perhaps, that adventure should’ve ended before it began.

That was the choice you two made.

****

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