#it will be the saddest thing you have ever seen in your life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingdaisyfarm · 7 months ago

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cigarettes after sex

tags: mullet!stan pines, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol and smoking, nsfw, sexual themes, depression, ptsd, drunk sex, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, inspired by cigarettes after sex songs, so I recommend to listen some while reading that :)

Stan hasn't been himself since the portal swallowed Ford up.

His life is ruined, his mind is ruined, everything is ruined. Every single night, he’s hunched over the journals, Ford’s stupid, cryptic notes that Stan can’t figure out, can’t understand, but wants to. It's like trying to read in the dark. He knows there’s something in them, some answer, but it’s out of his reach and every time he thinks about his brother being gone, his chest tightens, that guilt slamming into him so hard he feels like he can’t breathe so he drowns in his own tears.

Stanley knows he’s not the smart one, never was, and now it feels like he’s lost every chance to make things right. The lab is his prison. The cigarettes are his only escape, one after another until the ashtray overflows, the smell of smoke permanently clinging to everything in this place. His eyes burn from lack of sleep, the bags under them deep and dark and he doesn’t bother to clean himself up anymore. What’s the point? He’s all alone. Again.

Tonight, something changes. He can’t sit in that goddamn lab for another second, can’t stare at those useless pages with his head spinning. So, he stumbles out into the cold and ends up at the bar down the street — the only place still open this late.

When he walks in, he’s already halfway drunk and you spot him immediately from across the room. It’s not hard; the guy’s a walking disaster. His coat is rumpled, hair a tangled mess, and his eyes are empty, hollowed out like he’s already lost something far more important than money. You've seen a lot of people sink to the bottom, but this guy sank even lower than most.

Stan doesn’t notice you at first. He barely notices anything as he stumbles up to the bar, hands trembling as he grips the counter. His cigarette hangs loose between his fingers, half burnt and about to fall, but he’s too out of it to care. He leans heavily against the bar, head down like the weight of his own body is too much.

“Whiskey,” he grumbles. “whatever’s cheap.”

The bartender glances at him, sizing him up with a frown. Stan looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks, hasn’t eaten much either. It’s written all over him, the sag of his shoulders, the unsteady sway when he tries to straighten up.

The bartender slides the glass toward Stan, but before he even picks it up, he’s already mumbling something under his breath, little grin pulling at his lips. “Don’t think I got the money for this, pal.”

He downs the drink in one go, barely wincing as the burn hits his throat and for a moment, you think he might get away with it. But the bartender’s patience is wearing thin. He scowls, leaning in with narrowed eyes, clearly not in the mood to deal with Stan’s shit tonight.

“I’m not running a charity here,” the bartender snaps. “you pay or you leave.”

Stan grins, and it’s the saddest, most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen. “What, no freebies? Guess I’ll have to put it on my tab.” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

The bartender looks about two seconds from throwing Stan out on his ass and for some reason, you find yourself moving before you even realise it. Sliding off your seat, you walk over. Stan doesn’t notice you until you’re standing right next to him, and even then, his gaze is unfocused, blurry as fuck.

Before things get ugly, you step in, sliding a couple bills across the counter, “I’ll cover it.”

The bartender takes the money without a word, though you can feel the tension of the situation, he’s definitely bothered and not in the mood. Stan looks at you, bleary-eyed, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real or just another hallucination. His mouth twists into that lopsided grin again, but there’s something softer about it this time, like he’s genuinely surprised someone bothered to step in.

He’s too drunk to notice the bartender’s scowl as you grab him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. He stumbles, almost dragging you down with him, but you manage to keep him upright, though just barely.

“Hey, thanks, sweetheart,” he slurs, blinking at you like he’s trying to clear the fog in his head. “didn’t know I’d be gettin’ free drinks tonight.”

He tries to stand up straighter, but the alcohol’s got a firm grip on him. His body sways dangerously so you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him steady. He’s heavier than you expected, way too much, his body leaning against yours as you pull him away from the bar.

“Come on,” you mutter, dragging him toward the door. “let’s get you out of here before you piss off anyone else.”

Stan stumbles along beside you, his steps unsteady, barely able to keep himself upright. He’s mumbling something under his breath, words too slurred to make out, because he’s so fucking drunk, but you can tell it’s nothing good. Outside, the cold hits you both like a slap to the face. The winter air is brutal, biting through your clothes and cutting through the haze of alcohol that’s been clouding Stan’s head.

“Jesus, it’s freezing out here,” he mutters, blinking against the cold. His breath comes out in visible puffs, his flushed face suddenly looking even redder in the harsh chill. Then he looks at you. “So what, you my babysitter now?

This time you have to shove him back against the wall just to keep him upright. His back hits the cold brick with a dull thud, and he lets out a low, drunken laugh, his head tipping back to rest against the wall.

“Ohh, you gonna pin me here? gotta say, I’m not usually into this kinda thing, but for you, sweetheart, I might make an exception.” his body sags, leaning heavily into the wall as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “or are you just waiting for me to do something stupid?”

Your brows furrow at that, irritation flaring in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

He’s a mess, a complete disaster, but there’s something about him that makes it hard to walk away. Maybe it’s the way he’s still trying to crack jokes, even when he’s clearly drowning in his own misery. Maybe it’s the way his hands tremble, even though he’s trying to play it off like he doesn’t care.

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the sky. Stan chuckles. “Well, I could just. . . y’know. Throw myself off a cliff. Put an end to all this crap. What’s one more dead Pines, huh?”

He’s not joking anymore. There’s something raw in his voice, he sounds way too hurt, too honest, too broken that makes your stomach twist. You don’t really know what to answer on that. You aren’t that good at supporting people, but supporting drunk guy? He’ll barely hear what you’ll tell him.

You pull a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it up with quick movements, because cold air stinging your fingers. Stan watches you through half-lidded eyes, his breath visible in the frigid air.

“Hey,” he mutters. “mind if I bum one off ya?”

You hand him a cigarette without a word, and he takes it, his fingers still shaking from cold or. . . as he lights it. He leans back against the wall, the smoke curling around his face as he exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.

Neither of you speak after that. There’s nothing to say. You don’t know how to start a talk either. Is it even needed?

Stan’s a complete mess, the kind you don't want to get too close to. But as you stand there, cigarette smoke curling between your fingers, you can’t tear your eyes off him. He’s slumped against the wall, looking like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders or maybe that’s just the whiskey. You wonder why the hell you bothered to drag him out here in the first place. He’s a disaster and his weird comments aren’t helping, they just disturb you.

You take another drag, feeling the bitter taste of nicotine hit your lungs, and for a moment, you think about just walking away. He’s not your problem. You’ve done your good deed for the night and the cold air is starting to bite at your skin. Just leave him here. He’ll figure it out, or. . . he won’t. Either way, it’s not your concern.

But just as you’re about to turn and go, Stan mumbles something under his nose. It’s faint, too quiet to catch.

“. . . should’ve never messed with the damn portal.”

You blink. Portal? The word echoes in your mind, that’s surprising, intriguing. What the hell is he talking about? You glance at him again, but his eyes are fluttering shut, his body slumping further against the wall.

“Hey,” you say, stepping closer. “what did you just say?”

Stan’s lips move, but no sound comes out, he’s completely out of it. Your eyes widen in shock as you say “hey, man” louder to get him back to his senses, but before you can react, his knees buckle and he collapses, dead weight against the cold ground.

“Holy shit!” you drop your cigarette, your hands immediately going to his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. His head lolls to the side, completely out cold

Of course. Of fucking course! He’s drunk off his ass, hasn’t slept, probably hasn’t eaten anything substantial in days. You run a hand through your hair, staring down at him, your mind racing.

You’re not sure what the hell to do with this guy. You don’t even know him. But something in your gut twists, something telling you to stay, to not leave him lying here like this.

***

He’s strange, sure. But why does that word “portal” keep sticking in your head?

Days pass, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him. That night, his ramblings, the look in his eyes before he passed out. You shouldn’t care. He’s just some guy, a random drunk you stumbled across. But you’ve always been a curious person. You keep thinking about how broken he looked, how utterly wrecked he seemed and you wonder what could’ve driven him to that point.

You’re out in town again, aimlessly wandering the streets of Gravity Falls, and without even realizing it, you find yourself back at the bar where you met him. It’s the same cold winter night, what makes your body shake from chill no matter how many layers you’ve got on.

You stand outside with a cigarette, your breath mixing with the smoke. Your mind’s still on him, on that weird stranger. You can’t help but wonder if he’s alright. Probably not? Guys like that don’t bounce back easy.

You take another drag, exhaling slowly, your thoughts swirling. You think about how he stumbled around, barely able to stay on his feet, and for some reason you smile. It’s ridiculous, really. He’s such a loser. But there was something strangely. . . cute about it all. God, why are you even thinking about him

Suddenly, the door to the bar swings open, and a familiar figure stumbles out into the cold. You blink, and sure enough, it’s him. That drunk weird guy. Same red jacket, same disheveled look, but this time he doesn’t seem quite as far gone. Still drunk, but not teetering on the edge like last time.

The bouncer gives him a shove, muttering something about not coming back without cash and Stan nearly trips over his own feet before catching himself. He stands there for a moment, muttering insults and then his eyes land on you. His gaze lingers, squinting through the haze of alcohol, and recognition slowly dawns on his face. He straightens up, well, as much as a guy like him can, and adjusts his jacket, trying to look somewhat presentable.

“Well, well, if it ain’t my guardian angel,” he says with a grin.

You raise an eyebrow, flicking the ash from your cigarette. “didn’t know angels had to drag drunks out of bars.”

Stan laughs, but it’s more of a low chuckle. “do I know you? I feel—“ he hiccups. “fuck, feel like I should know your name. . .”

“I never told you, dummy.”

Stan stares at you for a moment, processing that, and then he smiles wider. “Ah, right. Guess I can’t forget what I never knew.” he winks, but it’s sloppy, and you can’t help but smile back.

He takes a step toward you, leaning against the wall beside you. “Y’know, I gotta thank ya for payin’ for me back there. ‘Specially since that whiskey was crap. Worst I’ve had in years.”

You snort, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, and that’s why you drank all of it, right? real convincing, man.”

He chuckles again, running a hand through his brown hair. “What can I say? Gotta give every drink a fair shot. Even the bad ones.”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. The guy’s a mess, sure, but there’s something oddly charming about his complete lack of shame. He’s so human. Flawed and ridiculous, but human. And funny.

For a while, neither of you say much, just standing there under the night sky, the snow crunching beneath your feet as you walk slowly down the street. The cold bites at your skin, but it feels less harsh with him beside you, talking about nothing in particular. He rambles about the bar, about the bartender, about how he’s been kicked out of worse places, but there’s an ease to it, like he’s just talking to fill the silence.

And for some reason, you don’t mind it. His company is strangely nice. Despite everything.

As you walk, you glance over at him, still trying to figure out what it is about this guy that’s gotten under your skin. He’s weird, yeah. Definitely not what you’d call put-together.

He catches your gaze and smirks, a little lopsided but softer this time. “What, you like what you see?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Not even close.”

***

Over time, you start to see Stanford Stan more regularly. It's never planned, never some formal arrangement. He’s just there, outside that same dive bar, smoking under the dim streetlight or wandering down the streets with his red jacket pulled tight against the cold. And every time, you find yourself walking beside him, talking about nothing and everything.

It’s not like you’re close, not really. He doesn’t open up, never gives you much more than surface-level comments or dumb jokes to deflect anything too personal. You only know what he lets slip, and even that feels like more than you should. He insists his name is Stanford, though something about it always sounds. . . off.

Stanley thinks he’s idiot. It’s a role he’s playing, a mask he’s not ready to take off, won’t take for for the next thirty years.

One night, after you’ve met up for what feels like the hundredth time, you finally ask him why he’s always drunk when you see him. It’s been bugging you for a while, how every time you meet, he reeks of whiskey and stale cigarettes, eyes glassy, speech slurred, sometimes flirting with you or winking dumbly at you. You’ve tried to ignore it, but tonight the question just slips out.

Stan pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips. You think he’s not going to answer, but then he takes a drag, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Helps me think,” he mutters. “keeps the noise out.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Noise?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the street. “Yeah. The crap up here. Some people got quiet minds, y’know? Not me. Gotta slow it down.”

It’s vague, cryptic. You don’t push for more. You’ve learned by now that pressing Stan doesn’t get you anywhere. He only shares what he wants, and even then, it’s always layered in something else, sarcasm, a joke, some offhand comment that makes it hard to tell what’s real and what’s just him deflecting.

Nevertheless, there is something in the way he says it that does not leave you indifferent. The way he looks when he mentions his thoughts, as if there's something more hiding under the surface that booze and cigarettes can't hide. You wonder what’s rattling around in his brain, what kind of shit he’s trying so hard to drown out.

Time passes, and your strange friendship, or whatever it is, continues. Nothing changes. You meet up, you talk, you walk through the streets of Gravity Falls, smoking and trading stories. Stan makes jokes, you laugh, and somehow, despite everything, you find yourself growing more comfortable around him.

But he never lets you in, not really. You can only guess at what’s going on in his life, at what’s driving him to the bottom of a bottle every time you see him. It’s frustrating in a way, how closed off he is, how he seems determined to keep everything buried. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to let you see the real him, afraid to show just how broken he really is.

You start to ask him more personal questions, though he always dodges them with some half-assed joke. Like the time you asked him about his hair. His mullet, to be specific. It’s a mess, now unruly and overgrown, and you can’t help but wonder why the hell he refuses to cut it.

“Why don’t you change a haircut?” you ask teasingly. “you look like you haven’t touched it in years.”

Stan just grins, flicking his cigarette into the street. “Ah, what can I say? Chicks dig the mullet.”

What you don’t know is that Stan’s too scared to look at himself in the mirror.

The way he avoids mirrors, the way his eyes flicker away if he catches his own reflection for even a second. It’s not about the hair, it’s about something deeper. Every time he sees his reflection, it’s not his face he sees, it’s Ford’s. If he cuts his hair, changes anything, he’s worried he’ll lose himself completely, that he’ll become the brother he’s spent his whole life running from. It’s not something he’d ever tell you, though. That’s way too deep for the guy who lives behind a wall of bad jokes and alcohol.

Stan never talks about his past. You’ve asked, but he always deflects with a joke or changes the subject. The most you’ve gotten out of him is when something goes wrong, he drops something, or his stupid car won’t start, or even when he just stumbles over his own feet. He’ll shake his head, muttering to himself, “Screw-up. Always been a screw-up.” It’s weird, like it’s the only thing he knows how to be.

It bothers you. You don’t get it. Yeah, he’s a mess, but this weird obsession with calling himself a screw-up, like it’s some kind of mantra, doesn’t make sense to you. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but every time he says it, you see a flash of something bitter in his eyes, like he’s heard those words so many times they’ve become part of him.

What you don’t realize is that those words are burned into him. His father used to call him a screw-up, over and over until it became his identity. And then there was Ford, his golden child of a brother, the smart one, the successful one. Stan’s always felt like the lesser of the two, never quite measuring up, always stuck in his brother’s shadow. He’s spent his whole life trying to live down to that title, like it’s all he’s worth. Stan was a kid, who heard those words over and over until they stuck, until he couldn’t see himself as anything else.

You can’t fix what’s already broken. But that doesn’t stop you from trying. Something about Stan makes you want to help, even though you know you can’t. He’s too far gone, too buried in his own mess. Still, you keep coming back. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of some sense of hope.

***

Another night, another round of drinks. The two of you sit at the bar, glasses clinking against the wood, the air is filled with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Stan’s already a few drinks in, and you’re not far behind. You laugh at something he says, probably another dumb joke, but you’re not really paying attention. Your mind is clouded, your body is hot from drinking, and before you know it, your gaze slides over his lips.

It’s stupid. You’re both drunk, and this is Stanford, the guy who can barely keep his life together, let alone maintain a relationship. But the way he looks right now, disheveled and messy, his lips curling into that cocky grin, makes your heart race.

His lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.

The kiss happens fast, messy, without warning. One minute you’re sitting there, and the next, his lips are on yours, rough and dry. It’s not graceful, not soft. It’s desperate, like he’s been holding something back for too long, and now it’s all spilling out at once.

The kiss deepens, but you don’t care. His mouth moves against yours, hungry, needy, like he’s searching for something, like that’s what he needed all those years. Human touch and someone else's warmth.

You’re both drunk, of course. Maybe that’s the only way it could’ve happened.

Stan tastes like smoke and cheap liquor, the bitterness lingering on your tongue as his hands slide up your back, pulling you in. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest presses against yours.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is a mistake, stupid drunk accident. But then he kisses you harder, his hand tangling in your hair and all thoughts of logic fly out the window. This isn’t about fixing him. You don’t care about anything except the fact that Stanford, the complete disaster of a man you’ve somehow gotten tangled up with, is kissing you like the world’s about to end.

His hands are rough, clumsy as they cup your face, and it’s all heat and desperation, like neither of you know what the hell you’re doing, but you don’t want to stop.

You’re not sure how it happened so quickly, one second, you were sitting at the bar, laughing, your lips crashing into his, and now you’re pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The neon lights of the bar barely make their way out from under the door, flooding the room with a dim glow as Stan presses you against the sink.

Stan kisses like an animal, like he’s trying to lose himself in the moment, drown out everything that’s weighing on him. Like he’s searching for some kind of escape. The alcohol has dulled his brain, but not enough to make him forget. He needs something more, something real to pull him out of the relentless spiral of thoughts, of portals, journals and the constant gnawing guilt.

Stan needs to lose himself in something, anything else. And tonight, that something is you.

His big hands are on you, one sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair, tugging you even closer as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth and you feel how his hard cock presses through his jeans as he pushes you against the sink in the bar's bathroom. You feel like you’re burning from the inside out, every nerve igniting under his touch, his mouth trailing down your jaw, leaving a scorching path along your skin.

You barely notice when the door creaks open, someone stepping into the small, dimly lit room.

“Bathroom’s occupied, unless you wanna watch, but that’ll cost you.” Stan snaps, irritated as he glares at the stranger. The man stutters away quickly and the door slams shut with a loud bang.

Before you can say something, he’s kissing you again, hard, desperate, rough, demanding.

You moan into his mouth, tangling your finger in his brown hair, tugging him closer, and the word slips out between your breaths. “Stanford. . .”

Stan freezes and that name seems to knock all the alcohol out of his blood. It feels like something heavy and wrong between you, Stan's gaze is blank, like he's not here at all. It’s his brother’s name, the one he’s stolen, the one he’s buried himself under. You look at him and see something in his eyes. Regret. Guilt. That endless pain that’s been eating at him for as long as he can remember. You don't know what's going on, but you want to solve this damn mystery so badly. What's wrong with this man?

But then it’s all gone, replaced by that cocky grin.

“Stan’s fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”

His hands fumble with your pants, yanking them down roughly, desperately, his fingers massaging and rubbing you through your underwear. You’re already soaking, practically trembling from his touch, and he groans when he feels it, his fingers sliding through your wetness.

“Shit, you’re so wet for me,” he growls. “fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

You moan, head tilting back, the sensation overwhelming as he slides two fingers inside you, rough and fast. He’s not gentle, not tonight, there’s no time for that, no point for that too. He’s desperate and it shows in the way his thick fingers pump into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit in the most delicious way.

“St-Stan—“ you moan, looking down at his fingers thrusting into you.

“Please, don’t say it, don’t say that name,”meanwhile, Stan thinks, hoping your drunken mind has figured it out.

“—fuck me,” your last words make him breathe a sigh of relief. Good girl. And then he’s yanking your panties down as he have you bent over the sink, your palms pressing into the cold porcelain and you barely have time to register the sound of his belt hitting the floor before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he lines himself up. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, right now. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

You moan, nodding, pressing back against him, desperate for the stretch, to feel him inside you because your brain can't think of anything else but getting fucked hard in the bathroom of a bar. “Please, Stan— please, use me!”

And he obeys, slamming into you, burying himself deep in one rough, brutal thrust that actually hurts, but your drunk state doesn’t care much. You gasp, his cock fills you so completely you can barely breathe, you cry out, your body arching, but Stan's hand is holding you back, pressing on your back to keep you in place and he groans. It’s overwhelming you, a mix of pain and pleasure and you can’t stop moans that escapes your lips as he starts to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with rough thrusts.

“Huh, oh jesus fuck, baby, yer tight,” Stan grits out between ragged breaths, his voice hoarse. He pulls back only to slam into you again, harder this time, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm that has you gasping.

“Staaann—!” you whimper his real name again, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink for dear life, his cock so deep it’s like he’s claiming every part of you. “Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck!”

“my fucking god, baby,” he groans, his dick hitting that spot deep inside you that has your body trembling. His fingers find your clit, rubbing in quick circles as he fucks you harder. “you feel so fuckin’ good, doll, so tight around my cock.”

Of course, there's a mirror hanging over the sink, and Stan glances up, wanting to see your fucked-out expression, how gorgeous your face looks when he's pounding into you like this. But, almost spitefully, his eyes land on himself instead. He wants to look away, he should look away, but something makes him stop. For the first time in years, the reflection staring back at him is someone else. Not his twin. Not his nerdy brother. No, not Stanford. Ford would never end up like this. Never get so fucking dirty.

Stan sees himself for what he is. What he's become. Hair disheveled, drunk, filthy, fucking in a bar bathroom. Ford would never be like this. Stan, you piece of shit, you're a disgrace to your brother's name, Stanley thinks.

But then your moans reach his ears, pulling him back, reminding him where he is. Thank God the bar music is loud enough to cover you. He blinks, realizing he's let the pace slip, and his hands tighten on your hips, his grip hard enough to bruise, grounding himself.

You’re a mess of moans and gasps, your body shaking, your warm walls tightening around him as the pleasure builds. “Stan— fuck, I’m gonna—”

Stan leans into you as much as the position allows, one hand tangling in your hair, tugging hard enough to make the roots sting, though in your drunken haze, you barely even feel it.

“Do it,” he growls, his breath hot against your neck. “Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

And you do, the orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as you cry out, your walls squeezing around him what makes Stan groan, his fingers digging into your hips, thrusting harder, faster, chasing his own release. You can feel him throbbing inside you and then he’s pulling out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he strokes himself, his cum spilling hot and thick onto your skin.

***

The days began to stretch into weeks. Time wasn’t something you paid attention to anymore, not since that night. You could still feel him sometimes, his rough hands ghosting over your skin, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes lingering long after he’d left, his groans, the way he said your name. It hadn’t been anything gentle or romantic that night, just bodies lost in drunken hunger. And after that, you hadn’t seen much of him since, not like before.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that night had ruined something between you. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe he’d felt nothing, and you’d been stupid to think it could’ve been anything more. The way his lips had pressed against yours, hungry, desperate, hadn’t felt like love. He was drunk, did he even know who he was kissing? Your anxiety was growing, your thoughts were fighting one another. It wasn’t love. It had been something else entirely, it was raw and messy. You knew it wasn’t love, just a night. It wasn’t tender or slow; there were no whispered promises of endless love, marriage, kids, whatever “all happy” people have. Just a desperate fuck, not some grand confession of feelings. Whatever had been between you before — it felt like it was ruined, as if that thing in the bathroom had burned everything else to ash.

Stanford had disappeared, leaving you with silence and your own thoughts, and you believed that he regretted it. Maybe it was just too much for him.

However, Stanley, he couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips on his, the way they were so warm, because no one had ever kissed him with that kind of passion before. He wasn’t used to that, to being touched like that. His entire life, he believed nobody really liked him. Not like this. Hell, even his own family had given up on him at some point. Except for his mom, she’d always tried to love him, even when he couldn’t love himself.

He tried to ignore the way his chest ached when he thought about you, tried to drown it out with more cigarettes, more drinks, he tried, but failed because nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. Stan was getting attached to you, he knew it, even when he didn’t want to admit it. Even without alcohol, without the nicotine to calm his nerves, he knew he wanted you and your presence. It wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper, something that scared the fuck out of him because he wasn’t used to it. And maybe that’s why he’d been avoiding you. Because how the hell was he supposed to deal with feelings he didn’t even know how to name? Stan always felt that people didn’t love him, they tolerated him.

With you, for the first time in a long time, Stan had felt like he mattered. Like he was seen.

It scared him a lot.

***

Spring came early that year, and with it, the world outside the window seemed to come to life. Gravity Falls blossomed with colors you hadn't noticed before — the world is painted in bright greens and soft pastel tones, flowers made their way through the ground, as if the whole town was shaking off the cold and waking up. And that's when you saw him again.

You weren’t expecting to run into Stanford like this, not here, not in daylight, when spring is blooming around you. He was standing at the edge of the road, hands shoved into his pockets, a slight frown on his face like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here. But then his eyes met yours and he didn’t look away this time.

There was no alcohol, no bar lights casting shadows on his face. Just sober Stan, the man who had kissed you with so much need that it had nearly broken you.

“Hey,” he called out and you immediately responded with excited “hi!” you smiled, he stood there, waiting for you to come closer. When you did, there was a long pause, neither of you quite sure what to say. His eyes flicked down nervously and you noticed it then, the subtle change, not too noticeable. Had he fixed his mullet a bit? It wasn’t much, but it was. . . cleaner. Neater, like he’d put in just a little more effort. Like maybe he had been planning on running into you.

“Uh, you wanna grab some coffee or somethin’?” Stan asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he shifted on his feet betrayed him. He was nervous. Actually nervous. You hadn’t seen that in him before. “I figured we could, ya know, talk. Maybe. If that’s somethin’ you wanna do, of course.”

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

That’s how two of you ended in a small café nearby, the conversation light at first, both of you avoiding that specific term about. . . Doesn’t matter.

It was much easier to talk about the weather, or the weirdness of Gravity Falls, or how spring had made the town feel alive again. But every now and then, your eyes would meet and you exchanged awkward laughs and smiles.

“So, uh. . . I gotta ask,” Stan started. “did ya notice somethin’ different?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before grinning. “Your hair? you mean you actually put effort into it?”

He smiled back at you. “Yeah, well, figured I’d try to clean up a bit. Y’know, look a little less like a bum.”

You laughed, feeling warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a small thing, but it felt significant to you. Like he’d actually cared enough to try for you, impress you maybe. And that meant more than you could say.

***

Nights bled into days and days slipped back into nights. Time seemed to blur together, the moon swapped places with the sun over and over. And here you were, tangled in the sheets of Stan’s bed, staring at the ceiling, while the moonlight filtered through the triangle-shaped window, the soft glow of it lays over your face, feels like the world outside was holding its breath just for you.

Things between you and Stan had shifted in ways you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t quick or loud. At end, Stan let you get closer, but piece by piece, he was afraid you might notice if he let you too far in all at once.

The first time Stanley let you hug him, really hug him, was late in night. You weren’t sure how it had happened, it wasn’t planned, you reached for him first. You didn’t even think about it, just pulled him close. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him carefully at first, waiting for him to tell you to stop. But he didn’t. Stan stiffened at first, because the idea of being held was foreign to him, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to do. Then his face buried against your shoulder, and at first, you thought he was just tired, resting, taking what he needed and nothing more. But then you felt it. The dampness against your skin.

You realized with a sinking heart that Stan was crying.

It wasn’t loud. No sobs, no gasping breaths. Just silent bitter tears soaking through your shirt, his grip tightening on you like he was afraid you might disappear, just like his brother. His body trembled slightly, now he couldn’t hide anymore. It broke something in you, seeing him like this, this man felt so small in your arms.

He clung to you like a child, because no one had held him in years. No one, no one had hugged him like this since he left his family.

You sighed and held him tighter, feeling his tears soak into your skin. Stan wasn’t just crying about tonight, he was crying for all the years he’d spent running, for all the times he’d pushed people away because it was easier than getting hurt. He was crying because, for the first time in so long, someone was holding him, and it wasn’t just physical, it reminded him of what it felt like to be cared for. To not be alone.

Your hand gently stroking the back of his head, letting him melt into you like the child he probably hadn’t been allowed to be in years. Decades, maybe. For the first time, Stan didn’t feel like the tough man you knew him as. He felt small, fragile, like he was that little boy again, the one who had been left behind, pushed out of his family and told to figure it all out on his own.

Stanley pulled back, wiping his face roughly with the back of his hand, embarrassed as he looked down. But you didn't give him time to think again and regret his actions, you didn’t let him feel that shame for long. You reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, handing one to him without a word. Stan took it and you lit it for him, the soft click of the lighter the only sound in the room.

You sat together in that silence of the night, both of you smoking. You weren’t drunk this time and that made everything feel more real, clear. It wasn’t about the cigarettes, though. It was the quiet between you, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward. Stan wasn’t running anymore, he could finally relax, finally let himself breathe.

He looked up at the night sky, at the Milky Way stretching above you and smiled then, just a little, but it was there. A real, sincere smile. You hadn’t seen that on him before, not like this. It wasn’t the cocky grin he wore after dumb compliments or the smirk that followed some joke. This was softer. Stanley stared at the stars, his eyes reflecting the distant light and you wondered what he was thinking about. But while he was smiling, you were calm.

Stanford, real Stanford, he’s always been somewhere up there. In the stars, in the galaxies, in other world, always lost in science and mathematics, in things Stanley never really understood.

Nights passed like this more often, where it wasn’t about the rush of everything. He didn’t have to keep running anymore, didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t care. He’d gotten soft around you in a way that surprised both of you, but it felt right. He could relax now. He could let himself be vulnerable.

One night, after the smoking had long stopped, after the silence had stretched between you in that comfortable way again, the two of you ended up in his bed. Not in the desperate lust way you had before, but in a way that felt natural. Like this was where you both belonged, in each other’s arms.

Stan was lying on your chest, his head resting against you as you calmingly ran your fingers through his hair, the brown strands slipping through your hands. He let out a long, contented sigh, relaxing into your touch.

You felt his breath against your skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest in sync with yours, and that made you understand just how fragile he really was. He never was the tough guy he always tried to be. Stanley Pines was was just a man trying to figure out how to feel again.

Stan’s arms wrapped loosely around you, holding on but not out of desperation this time. Just out of comfort. Out of need.

You smiled softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Stan.”

And for the first time, he believed it and smiled.

***

It wasn’t in Stan’s nature to lay everything out in some big, romantic gesture, not now. This will happen later when he gets older, much older. So there was no official conversation, no ‘what are we now?’ that hung awkwardly in the air.

It happened one evening, at dusk, because at this time of day people always become more sincere and honest, the two of you sitting on the back porch, sharing the silence in the way you’d grown to love. He had that usual cigarette between his lips, the glow of the ember flickering in the dark and you were watching the stars. That's when he said it, which in his language meant “I love you”:

“I think I like you best when you’re just with me and no one else.”

That was his way of telling you. You didn’t need him to say the word love. You understood him well enough by now to know that what he felt was real and that was all you needed.

You didn’t ask him to clarify, didn’t push for more. Stan was never someone you could push. Instead, you waited. You knew he would tell you everything in time. He just needed to get there on his own, at his own pace.

Sometimes he’d disappear into the lab, working on some thing he barely explained, shrugging it off with that typical grumble about science and mathematics. “It’s all bullshit anyway,” he’d say, tossing his hands in the air. “I ain’t ever understood that crap.”

“Not like my brother, he’s the smart one.” Stanley continued in his thoughts.

Then you started noticing the small changes. The way the bottles that once cluttered his desk and the corners of the shack were fewer now. He still drank, yeah, but not like before. He wasn’t drowning himself in it anymore. It was like he was learning, little by little, how to exist without that forever haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts, feelings and memories.

Stan was still scared though. He was scared of a lot of things, scared you’d leave, scared you’d find out something about him and realise you couldn’t stay. And then there were the nightmares. The ones he never talked about, but they were all the same, repeating every time. You’d wake in the middle of the night to find him tense beside you, his breathing uneven, his hands gripping the sheets as though he was trying to hold on to something slipping away.

That haunted him. The portal, always the portal. He’d never say it, at least not now. He’s not ready yet. He’s terrified that somehow, you’d be pulled into it too, just like Ford. That one day you’d be gone and he’d be alone again, abandoned forever.

But when your lips touches his in slow kiss, when you brush your fingers through his messy hair and kiss his forehead, all these fears are washed away. You’d hold him close, feel his body relax against yours and slowly, slowly, his breathing would steady as the nightmares faded. There he stops dreaming about portals and disappearances. Instead, he sleeps deeply, peacefully, like a normal human being.

In the mornings, he’d stay in bed longer than you, his eyes still closed when you slipped out from under the covers. He’d stretch, arms reaching out lazily, that rough voice of his so sleepy. “Sweetheart, come right back,” he’d mumble. “i’ve been waitin’ for you to slip back in bed.” he’d smile when he’d feel your warm body next to his.

That’s what made you fall in love with him harder.

The way he was always a bit softer in the mornings, not yet fully awake and not needing to be. He wasn’t running anymore. Not from you, not from himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, Stan was learning what it meant to just be. To exist in the quiet moments. He still smoked, but it wasn’t to escape anymore, it was just a part of him, something familiar, habit.

Stanley had spent so much of his life running, from his past, from laws, cops, states, from his brother, from his mistakes. But with you, for the first time, he wasn’t running anymore. He was staying.

#stanley pines x reader #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls smut #x reader #gravity falls x you #stan pines x reader #stanford pines #gravity falls #stanley pines x you #stan pines smut #stan pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #stan pines x you #stan pines x oc #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls fanfic #mullet stan #gravity falls fanfiction

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syluspeach · 1 month ago

Text

Softdark!StepdadSylus x reader

18+ plus (mdni) you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Trigger warnings: dark!sylus, older man with younger woman, Sylus is in his early forties and reader is +21, loner!reader, clueless!reader, naive kink, innocence kink, reader’s mom is terrible, reader is emotional and it annoys Sylus at times, meanie!Sylus, Sylus is a manipulator, daddy kink, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting, p n v, first time, loss of virginity, Caleb is a district attorney lol, incorrect talks about restraining orders, Sylus talks you through it, drug use, drunk character, lots of plot holes tbh, domestic violence, personal items are destroyed, death of minor character, please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with anything listed above. Let me know if i missed anything. Not edited.

+9k words

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Sylus’ heart broke the first time he saw you.

With your shoulders curling inward and your head hanging low, something about how pitiful you looked caught his eye.

You sat across a woman he could only assume was your mother, judging by the similar features. She spoke to you in a harsh tone, demanding you “sit up straight and wipe that ugly look off your face” before she went back to scrolling on her phone. She made no effort to talk to you. If she did, most of the time it was merely insults or ways you could “improve”.

Doing as you were told, he managed to get a glimpse of your face. You had the saddest eyes he had ever seen. You were too pretty, too young, to be this miserable. You seemed like a good kid. The type to do as you were told. It's not your fault you were stuck with a mother who was more interested in spending the day gossiping with her friends from work than having a nice lunch date with her daughter.

The life he could give you. You would never have to worry about a thing. Wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. Your life would consist of total leisure. All you needed to be was a good girl for him.

Your mother didn’t know what she had. She didn’t deserve you. You were a little kitten that needed to be taken care of. You needed a nurturing presence in your life. She was merely holding you back, preventing you from seeing the beauty of the world around you. Anyone on the outside could see how suffocating she was.

He needed to do something about that.

——

It was strange having a new person in your life. Since you were born, it had only been you and your mother.

Having friends was out of the question and so was a boyfriend. This led to you knowing very little about the world, especially men. So, when your mom brought a man home for the very first time, you nearly passed out front the nerves.

You had seen men out on the street, but none that looked like him.

He introduced himself as Sylus, the man your mom had been seeing for the last few months. You could feel how your face burned as you made eye contact with him. He was so handsome and so…large. He wore a maroon-colored button-up that paired nicely with his unnaturally colored eyes. The fabric stretched across his chest, the sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms you would only see carved out in porcelain. The black slacks he wore made his legs seem as though they went on for miles.

He was temptation in a half.

A strange sensation bloomed in between your legs. The kind that made you want to push your thighs together. It was the same one that appeared every time you read one of your mom’s dirty books.

Speaking of which, you failed to see the sour expression on her face when you shook Sylus’ hand, but he had a keen eye. Nothing slipped past him. He could tell your mom was the obsessive type. One who puts the happiness of a man before their child.

This was going to be easy. He just needed to play his cards right and in the end, it would be only you and him. If it goes according to plan, your mother would be far away from your two, six feet deep in the ground, perhaps.

——

Much to your mother’s dismay, Sylus made sure to spend time with you.

You don’t know how he managed to get her to agree to such things, but you were grateful you were finally getting the chance to go outside and experience things with someone who seemed to genuinely care about your happiness.

At first, it was a bit awkward for you, not sure what you were supposed to talk about. You didn’t have much to say as you had little experience with life, but Sylus managed to fill the silence just fine.

After a few outings together, he noticed the nervous habits you had where you’d pick at the skin on the side of your thumb and bite the inside of your cheek.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep digging into your skin like that, sweetie.”

You tore your eyes away from the view outside the car window, your wide eyes looking at the white-haired man driving.

Oh god. Was he going to scold you the way your mom did? Would he tug on your ear the way she did?

“I-I’m sorry. Mom says it’s…uh…a disgusting habit of mine.”

“S’not gross at all. I just don’t want you hurting yourself.” Taking a hand off the wheel, he offered it to you. “Here.”

You stared down at the hand he extended to you. The warm skin on the back of it touching the skin of your knee your jean shorts didn’t cover. You swore a spark ran through you at the direct skin contact.

“I don’t…understand.”

“I’m going to help you get rid of that nervous manner of yours. Whenever I’m around and you feel like you want to pick at your skin, you could hold my hand, play with my fingers, whatever you want.”

‘Could even suck on them if you’d like.’ He thought like the disgusting old man he was.

“But you’re my mom’s boyfriend. Isn’t that…that wouldn’t be right.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, sweetie.” He sighed. “Just trying to help.”

The sound of disappointment caused you to perk up in your seat. When he started to pull his hand away, you frantically reached for it. One hand wrapping around his thumb, the other grabbing the rest of his hand, you pulled it back into your lap.

“No!” That came out louder than you intended. “Oh, I’m…I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to yell.”

“S’okay. I’m not mad at you. I just didn’t want to push my luck.”

You said nothing for the next few minutes. You were too busy marveling at how large his hand was, your fingers following the veins that appeared on the back of his hand. His fingers were so long.

Thinking back to a romance novel you snuck out of your mom’s room, you wondered how easy it would be for him to wrap his hand around your neck. As the books would often say, he could easily manhandle you.

But he didn’t.

He was gentle with you. He treated you how anyone would treat a scared kitten. Hushed tones and soft caresses.

After a while, you spoke up, your eyes going back to staring at the buildings passing by you.

“Uh, Sylus…If you don’t mind, can I ask where we’re going?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. The other day when I was at your house, I passed by your room and noticed..how can I say this without sounding like an asshole? I noticed that it…lacked personality.”

Your grip on his hand tightened.

“I’m not allowed to hang things. Mom..uh…she doesn’t want me making holes in the wall.”

“You don’t need to put things up to make it your. You can easily add little knickknacks to your dresser or desk. Add a bit of color with a nice comforter. I doubt that thing you use as a blanket is keeping you warm at night.”

You could feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

He was right.

Most nights, you went to bed with a long sleeve, fleece pajama pants, and sock-clad feet just to keep your teeth from chattering.

“I’m not saying this to put you on the spot. You need a space in that house to call your own. You’re an adult, you should be allowed to pick things you like. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how controlling your mother is.” He paused, pulling into a large parking lot that had cars moving in both directions.

You watched as he drove past everyone, stopping in front of a sign that said “VALET PARKING”

Much to your disappointment, he gently pulled his hand out of your grasp, moving to unclip his seatbelt. He stepped out of the car to speak to a young man who came up to the vehicle, his voice muffled by the sound of cars passing by and the chatter of people.

You nearly jumped out of your seat when your door was pulled open. It was another guy who looked about the same age as the one Sylus was talking to.

“Miss?”

You showed no intention of moving, stuck to the leather seat.

“I got her.”

Sylus slid himself in between you and the valet. You went as stiff as a board when he curled around you, unfastening your seatbelt.

“Come here, sweetheart. We got a long day ahead of us and I want to make sure you have dinner before I take you home.”

God knows your mom wouldn’t feed you when she got out from work.

——

The shops Sylus had brought you to were anything but welcoming.

There were so many people. They carried bags from stores whose names you couldn’t even pronounce. It would have been so easy to get lost in the crowd if it weren’t for the giant holding your hand.

He towered over everyone. Men looked at him with envy while women did a double take before giggling to themselves. You noticed how people bumped into one another, not even sparing a sorry to one another. Yet, when some guy on his phone knocked into you, one look from Sylus had him stuttering an apology.

It took a lot of coxing from Sylus to finally step foot into one of the cute little boutiques they had. The saleswomen perked up at the sight of him, their attention primarily on him. It was strange having them follow you two around. It was difficult to even look at the pretty trinkets as they instantly tried to get you to buy them.

“Those are the latest trends! Everyone is dying to get their hands on them!” The retail worker who introduced herself as Monica exclaimed. The sound of her voice being so close to you had you griping onto Sylus’ hand for comfort, his thumb immediately brushing against your skin to soothe you.

You looked at the display case. The “latest trend” were some kind of ugly-looking creatures. Their fuzzy little bodies and pointy teeth were strange. Their beady little eyes made you uncomfortable.

“I’m…uh…not too sure they’re my thing.” You tried to sound as polite as you could, but the way Monica’s face flashed with annoyance didn’t go unnoticed by you or Sylus. Reminded you of your mom.

“Everyone who’s anyone is causing these to fly off the shelves.”

“I don’t see why.” Sylus interrupted. “They’re unsightly. Now if you don’t mind, we’d like to look around for a bit, without being followed.”

Much to your surprise, Monica left without another word.

With the sour taste not only in your mouth but Sylus’, he led you out of the store into another one that had the loveliest clothing. The dresses they had on the mannequins were like the ones you had seen in magazines. The flower prints, light colors, and bows caught your attention.

“Everything is so pretty. So cute.” Your wide eyes swept across the expanse.

The corner of Sylus’ lips twitched at the sight.

“Why don’t you pick out a few things?” He offered, knowing you wouldn’t dare. You’d rely on him to make the decisions for you.

“Can you help me?”

Bingo.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he brushed the warm skin of your cheek with the back of his hand.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

What a perfect little doll you were. You let him pick things out for you, down to cute cotton panties. You tried everything on, shyly stepping out of the dressing room to show him. He gave words of encouragement, the approving hums making you feel good.

You appreciated his actions but you couldn’t find the words meaningful enough to thank him. Yet, he clung to your sweet little thank yous.

He carried the multiple bags in one of his huge paws. He’d be damned if he didn’t take advantage of every opportunity to hold your hand.

At some point, your guard began to come down. You unconsciously started to pull him into stores, marveling at things you had never seen before. Still, you refused to let him buy every little thing you laid your eyes on.

He did keep his promise. When he saw your steps begin to slow and your energy to drain, he suggested you two had dinner before he had to take you back home. Once you had your fill, tummy full, and heart content with the tasty meal paired with dessert you ever had, you sat peacefully in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know how you managed to get my mom to agree to these outings, Sylus, but I’m grateful. You don’t have to do any of this, yet you’re always so nice to me every time we see each other.” Your eyes started to burn, tears wanting to spill. “I’m glad to have you in my life. And I want you to know, you didn’t have to buy me all these things but, I’m truly grateful.”

The rest of the drive home was filled with Sylus filling in the quiet spaces. He asked you questions about yourself, your likes and dislikes. There wasn’t much but it was enough to confirm what he already knew. Your mother was a terrible person and she needed to be out of the picture for you to completely give yourself over to him.

He saw the way you looked at him. Your nervous glances at him, the ways your eyes trailed over his hands and arms. You’ve never gotten to experience a man before, but he was going to make sure he was your first and only.

——

Months passed.

Sylus had infiltrated your home and your mind.

It was wrong. You know it was, but you unconsciously craved him.

Seeing the kisses he shared with your mother made you envious. That should be you.

“Oh god.” Your hand came to press itself against your mouth. “What am I thinking?”

Scared by the thoughts clouding your judgment, you got ready for bed. You’d be going to bed with an empty house. Your mom and Sylus would be going out for a nice dinner. Who knows at what time they’d be back? Most of the time, you’d wake up in the morning and your mom would be gone to work.

You dressed in a soft pink nighty Sylus bought you a few weeks ago. It was kept hidden deep within one of your drawers. He suggested you kept certain things hidden as you knew your mother was a jealous woman. You had seen her sneering at the cute lamb plush placed in the middle of your bed, the white comforter with little flowers stitched onto it offering a nice resting place.

You went to bed with your arms wrapped around your plush, your face pressed against its fur as it still smelled of Sylus as he had carried it around after winning it for you out of a claw machine.

Gosh, you wished it was him. The warmth and serenity he offered you was something you hadn’t had in life. He always took such good care of you. He provided support and allowed you to speak freely, expressing your thoughts and concerns without being reprimanded.

With a heavy sigh, you started to fall asleep.

A loud bang came from somewhere around the house, the sound of heels being thrown onto the floor. Your mother’s muffled voice could be heard. She was angry. Not wanting to be subjected to her wrath, you pretended to be asleep as her footsteps were making there way to your bedroom.

The aggressive sound of the doorknob knocking into the wall, causing them to rattle had you jumping under the covers, a yelp escaping your lips.

The lights were turned on and your comforter was ripped off of you.

“Ma!” You pushed yourself into a sitting position against the headboard, arms clutching your precious lamb. “What are you-”

Her teeth were bared as she took you in. The nightgown you wore was of much better quality than the one Sylus had gifted her.

“You little fucking whore. I knew it!” She yelled as she grabbed your hair and tugged you out of bed. “You’ve been fucking him this whole time. Why else would he be paying so much attention to you? He cancelled dinner plans and I’m sure you had something to do with it!”

You cried at the burning sensation thrumming through your scalp.

“No! I would never-”

Her palm made harsh contact with your once unblemished cheek and your bones rattled when she threw you on the floor.

Her eyes took in your room. Once barren and plain, there was life in every corner. Little figurines of cats, bunnies, and bears were arranged neatly on your desk. Your handy-down clothes were replaced with feather-trimmed dresses. Beat-up white sneakers were long gone, three new pairs in their place.

At the feeling of something soft against her foot, she looked down and was met with the annoyingly cute face of your lamb plushy.

With wide, terrified eyes, you watched as she picked it up.

“Ma, please. Why are you doing-”

“Quiet!”

Her fingers worked your cotton-filled friend. Her fingers flexed, a stormy expression taking over her face. Suddenly, she twisted its head, the stuffing hitting the floor as she threw its decapitated body at you. She stomped across your room, shoving the small critters off your desk before going over to your closet and ripping the clothing off the hangers.

Your once neat room was now a disaster. All the precious memories attached to every little thing were now replaced by the hands of your mother.

You needed to get out of here.

As quietly as you could, you tried to not alert her as you got up. When you were nearly out of the suffocating space, you were shoved against the door, the knob biting into the skin of your side.

A cry escaped.

“Where do you think you’re going, you little brat!”

Her nails were digging into the exposed skin of your arms, crescent shapes left in their wake. You tried the best you could to shake her off.

“You think you can take him from me? You think just because you’re young now, he’s going to stay with you forever?”

Through tears and wrecked sobs, you shoved her off of you.

She was left dazed on the floor. You took the opportunity to run, grabbing her car keys from the bowl by the door. The driving lessons she gave you a few years back better pay off.

Shifting the car into drive, you watched from the rearview mirror as your mother who was standing at the front door became smaller and smaller.

——

The low hum coming from the record player filled the living room as Sylus’ eyes trailed across the pages of the book held in his hands. He was somewhat at peace as he didn’t have to pretend with entertaining your mother. Selfishly, he canceled the plans he had with her, using the excuse of something coming up at work.

Unbeknownst to him, this would lead to your mom drinking too much wine with dinner and you, who was tucked safely under the soft bedding he had bought you, would be subjected to her anger.

His eyes started to flutter, the book in his hand falling against his chest as his breathing slowed.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he woke up to the doorbell ringing. For the first time in a long time, his stomach dropped. Whatever he was about to deal with, was going to upset him greatly.

Pushing himself off the couch, he made his way to the front door. He couldn’t help the way his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of you. Through the glass, he could see the way you had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, a disheveled nighty being your only protection against the rain. With your back towards him, it appeared as though you were making sure you hadn’t been followed. Your shoulders were shaking, the cold night making your breath visible in the air.

Your mother’s car was parked haphazardly in his driveway, the lights still on.

As if sensing him, you turned around. Your tear-filled eyes beckoning him to open the door faster.

He did as such, pulling you into the warmth of his home. In the different lighting, he could see the cut splitting your bottom lip.

“Sweetie, what are you-”

“I don’t…I don't know what happened.”

Oh, how terrified you sounded.

Your mother was doing exactly the opposite of what she wanted. She was pushing you into his arms like the fool that she was. He had to hold back the smirk that threatened to form.

“I-I was sleeping and she barged…she barged in…s-screaming about me being a…a whore.”

Now that wasn’t what he wanted. You weren’t supposed to become collateral.

A defining sob wrecked through you, Sylus taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around you.

It was his fault.

He should have known better. Your mother was spiteful and envious. She could see what you couldn’t. You liked Sylus. In your naive mind, you confused your feelings for him as something strictly platonic, but the dreamy look in your eye when you stared off into space at the sound of his name was just the right amount of confirmation your mother needed.

But this leads you to him. It was becoming so easy for him.

Without a second thought, you hugged him back. He was so warm, so welcoming. He was everything your mother wasn’t. The attention he paid you made you giddy, as well as the affection he offered.

“I don’t know why she treats me like this. I’ve always done what she asked of me. Is it so wrong that you treat me with a dash of kindness? Why does she want me to be miserable? Don’t I deserve love?”

The hand resting against the back of your neck pulled you away from his chest, his eyes zeroing in on the bruise blooming on the apple of your cheek. You were too sweet to be treated as such. Your obedience streak ran high. Always do as you are told.

“It’s time for you to do right by you, sweetie. I know you love you’re mom, but you can’t let her get away with this. You need to make an example of her. Let her know you’re not going to let her keep treating you as such.”

“But I don’t know how.”

You went to hide your face against his chest, but he wouldn’t allow you, leading to a whine coming from your pretty lips.

“I have a friend who works as a district attorney. I’m sure he could connect us to someone who can help you create a strong case for domestic violence.”

“A case? Like-like involving the police?” You pulled away from him, your arms going around you once more. “I can’t…I couldn’t do that. S-she’s my mother, Sylus.”

‘So stupidity runs in the family.’ He thought.

Okay, he’ll admit, that was mean, but he wasn’t going to let your mother get away with this. Most importantly, he wouldn’t let your kindness cloud your judgment. This was only the first step to getting you all to himself.

“If you don’t put an end to this now, do you know how quickly situations like these can escalate? Your mother isn’t stable. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if she…”

“If she what?” You asked with your head tilting slightly.

“Honey, at this point, I wouldn’t put it past your mother to try killing you.”

You felt the sandwich you had for dinner try to make its way back up. Your tummy feeling sour.

“She w-wouldn’t do that! You’re wrong!” Angry tears burned the corner of your eyes.

The sudden rise of your voice, at him of all people, set him off. Within a second, he had your face within one of his big hands, your back pressed against the door.

“I know you love your mother,” He spoke through clenched teeth. “ Even though she did nothing to deserve it, I will not let her get away with treating you like this. I’m doing this for your own good. So here’s the deal sweetheart, you’re going to sleep here tonight and tomorrow morning, we’re going to the police station to make an official report, got it?”

You were taken back. He’d never spoken to you like this. You didn’t like it. He was the only one who treated you like a decent human being. He always went out of his way to make sure you felt included. He had brought you so many gifts that ended up being destroyed at the hands of your mother. If anyone deserved your love, it was him. He was the father you never had.

Bringing one hand to his chest and the other to the wrist of the hand holding you in place, you spoke up.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

Now that riled him up. The dent in his pants grew, stiffening against his thigh, the head pulsating with need. He held himself back from ripping your clothes off and taking you against the glass door. Instead, he pressed a forceful kiss against your non-injured cheek, breathing in your scent.

“That’s a good fucking girl.”

——

The rest of that night was a blur.

You slept in one of Sylus’ many rooms. While you were off in dreamland, most definitely aided by the sleeping pills he gave you, he stayed by your side.

You were ignorant to the fact that he watched you sleep, his fingers trailing across your cheek.

So soft compared to him.

Everything about you was soft.

Your breathing was slow. Your chest rising and falling under the sheet. When you stirred, shifting your position just a little, the bedding slid down, exposing your neck and chest to the man’s greedy eyes.

Taking this golden opportunity ahead of him, he leaned over you and pressed his nose into the junction where your shoulder met your neck. He breathed in your scent, your heat radiating off onto him in waves. It was like he was scenting you, rubbing his skin against yours, hoping this would ward off any unwanted individuals.

“You’re home.” He whispered “You’re going to be so happy here. I’ll make sure of it.”

He stayed there a little longer, basking in the sensation that was you.

He didn’t need sleep for tonight.

His mind was too busy calculating his next move. Everything had fallen into place. Your mother played her part perfectly, down to a t. And you, you came running to him. You willingly became a tender little bird in a gleaming cage.

The next few days were going to be extremely busy for both of you. He knew it was going to take a toll on you, but it needed to be done. You’re mother needed to be gone.

He was the only one you needed.

——

You were grateful for Sylus’ jacket which was working as a safety net. It kept you warm against the cool air that filled the police station. The skin of your thumb had been picked raw and blood permeated your tastebuds.

Sylus spoke in hush tones with, Caleb, the district attorney. The younger male held onto a large file.

They made you fill out so much paperwork, most of it you didn’t even know what it was for. You gave a lengthy statement of what happened the night before and they made sure to take pictures of your injuries much to your discomfort. Even your nightgown was taken for evidence as it showed signs of a scuffle.

The sweats you wore were far too large, dwarfing you to anyone who glanced your way.

“Usually, we’d start with a restraining order but since you want to escalate this further, I’d say we have solid evidence to lock her away for a few years,” Caleb mentioned while you tried to focus on the sheets of paper before you.

How could you do this to your mother? She brought you into this world and yet, you’d be taking away her freedom.

This was all a mistake.

You needed to see her. She’d be able to make you see this was all a misunderstanding.

On autopilot, you stood from your seat and started to head out. You made it past the door when you heard your name being called.

You didn’t look back. You just kept walking.

“Where are you going?”

At the feeling of Sylus’ hand landing on your shoulder, you were roughly spun around.

“I-I want to see her.”

Sometimes your sweetness and ability to forgive so quickly was annoying. He held back rolling his eyes.

“Honey, no. You can’t. There’s a restraining order against her. She can’t be near you. You can’t go home anymore.”

Your eyes burned and your bottom lip trembled.

“This was wrong of me. She’ll make this right. She always does.”

When you turned away, Sylus’ patience cracked. His hand shot out and tugged you harshly over to his parked car.

“Why are you making this harder than it needs to be? It’s too late for your remorse. You signed the papers and now there’s a warrant out for her arrest. You won’t be able to see her until your court date.”

You tried to pull your arm free but he wouldn’t let you.

“I’ll take it back-”

“It’s too late for that! Don’t you see? What mother in their right mind would put a man above her child? What mother would lay her own hands on the one person she’s supposed to cherish? A mother is supposed to be a natural nurturer. She doesn’t love you. Get that through your thick skull!” He nudged your head with his finger and you yelp at the cruelty of it.

When he saw your frightened expression, his grip on your bicep loosened. His free hand came up to your jaw.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I just wish you see the truth. She doesn’t care for you, but I do.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I love you.”

A pregnant pause filled the space between you.

“You don’t…you can’t mean that.”

“I thought being with your mother would be enough for me since you two look so much alike, but after spending time together, you two couldn’t be more different. You’re an absolute delight to be around. When you come out of your shell, you shine so brilliantly. You offer me a different insight into things in life. A fresh perspective. You’re everything she’s not and I love you for it. You allow me to look after you, keep you safe. While you’re allowed to make your own decisions, I will not allow you to let her off the hook. We’ll be going through with our original plan and your mother will serve the time she deserves.”

You stayed quiet, stuck on the L word.

“You really love me?”

Sylus let out a breathy laugh.

“Of course I do.” He pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “How many more times do I need to say it?”

Pressing tiny kisses all over your face, the tension in your body went away, and happy giggles slipping past your lips. With one last peck to your cheek, he moved to open the passenger door, gesturing for you to slide in.

“You had a rough night and a busy morning. Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

——

Caleb made sure to keep Sylus up to date with anything involving your mother. Even let him know when the cops were on their way to bring her to the police station.

He sat in his parked car, a distance away from your old home. The flash of red and blue lights reflected off his tinted windows. He watched with rapt attention as your mother opened the door, confusion written on her face.

She looked a mess. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest, clothes were wrinkled and untucked.

The microphone hidden in the lapel of Caleb’s suit allowed him to hear every word.

“Oh, officers! I’m so glad you’re here. It’s my daughter…she…she had an episode. Destroyed the whole place and left. I’ve been going crazy trying to find her! I’m sure the neighbors contacted you, yes?”

How dumb did she think they were? What mother wouldn’t call the police as soon as their “unstable” kid took off with their car?

“Ma’am, we’re here on behalf of your daughter who has filed a report against you. You have the right to remain silent as everything you say could be held against you in a court of law-”

“But I didn’t do anything. Officer, please-”

“You’ll have enough time to present your statement. Please, don’t make this difficult. You don’t want any other charges brought against you.”

As the police officers closed in around her, she tried closing the door on them, running into the house.

Over the walkie, Sylus could hear the struggle, rolling his eyes at her pleads.

Pathetic.

After a few minutes, she reappeared, cuffed, and led over to the awaiting police car. She was resisting them, almost fighting them. Her shouts were silenced by the sound of the door closing.

“Let’s get her booked. We can add resisting arrest and battery against multiple officers to her chart. Go ahead and start the process, I’m going to stay back and make sure all evidence is collected.”

Caleb could be heard giving orders. Once the crime scene investigators showed up, did Caleb signal for Sylus to join him.

“I always love when they put up a fight.” Caleb started, leading Sylus throughout the house. “Makes the job so much more thrilling.”

The place you called home was in total disarray. Wandering through the familiar walls, glass crunched under his shoe from a broken picture frame. A picture of you. The only picture of you your mother had displayed.

He picked it up, removing it from the frame and dusting off the shards of glass. It would look lovely on his desk in the den. He carefully tucked into into his coat pocket, patting it as if to secure it into place.

“They’re at the station.” Caleb interrupted, stepping into your old room. “They’ll get here processed soon enough. I’m sure you’re going to be receiving a call from her soon. Pick up the call after a few rings, make it seem as though you haven’t been waiting for it, yeah?”

“Course.”

——

“You have ten minutes.” An officer said as he held the door open for Sylus. “You can hold hands but no kissing.”

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about that.’ Sylus wanted to say, instead, he settled with a curt nod.

Taking a seat on the cold metal chair, he waited for them to bring in your mother. When she walked passed the threshold, a warm feeling filled him as he noted the orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed in front of her.

At the sight of the white-haired man, your mother ran to him, hugging him as best as she could with her bond limbs. She didn’t even pay attention to the fact that he didn’t return the hug.

“You really came! I’m so happy you’re here!”

She took a seat before him, smiling brightly.

“Oh, Sylus! I’m so glad you actually came. You need to get me out of here. I don’t belong in this place! I don’t know what got into that little brat. I’ve been telling you she’s nothing but trouble, that kid. Don’t know why you wasted your time and money on her. But I promise, as soon as I get out, we could leave town. We’ll never have to see her again! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“You’re going to rot in here.” His eerily calm voice caused your mother’s smile to fall, replaced by a look of confusion. “Don’t you know what they do to people who abuse their children?”

“But-but I didn’t do anything! She’s the one who went berserk! Oh, you should’ve seen her, Sylus.” She hid her face in her hands, her fake sobs muffled. “I’m so embarrassed. She was always so ungrateful. Everything you bought her, out of the goodness of your own heart, she just destroyed it! All those pretty clothes were ripped to shreds. Please, you-”

When she reached for his hands, he leaned away. He no longer needed to pretend he enjoyed having her hands on him.

“I saw her. She came to me after what you did to her.”

Her eye twitched. Lips curling into a frown, she banged her hands against the metal table and spoke through clenched teeth.

“I knew it! I tried to ignore it but I always knew she liked you! Little fucking whore could never let me have anything. Leeching off of me like the disgusting parasite she's always been. From the moment she was conceived, she took and took from me. How could I love the thing that nearly killed me when she came into this world?”

“Either way, what’s done is done. I can’t see you slinking your way out of this one. She filed a restraining order against you and I’m not paying your bail. What kind of man would I be if I rewarded your behavior? You’ll still have to wait for your court date to be posted. As far as I can see, you’ll be in here for more than a couple of months, sweetheart.” Adjusting the cuff of his jacket, a small baggy fell into his palm as his hand held hers “But there’s a way out of this mess. Let me help you one last time, yes? Take this with you and pour it into the drink that comes with your dinner. You won’t feel anything. It’ll be like going to sleep. You’ll be at peace and you won’t ever have to deal with that parasite ever again. You’ll be free of her.”

“I can’t do-”

“You won’t make it out alive. They’ll tear you apart. Don’t let her take your last bit of freedom, sweetheart. Take matters into your own hands.” With that, he gave her hand a gentle nudge.

The bolts from the door made a loud thud as they unlocked.

“Time’s up you two.”

As Sylus walked out, he heard your mother call out to him, but he paid her no mind. He needed to get home to you. You’ve been alone for too long but everything has fallen into place beautifully. By sunrise, your mother would be gone.

When he got home, he expected to find you in the spare bedroom from the night before. Instead, you tucked yourself into a neat little ball on the black leather couch. You clung to the coat he had lent you earlier, your face tucked into the wool collar. Even asleep, you looked for him for comfort.

Without waking you, he carried you upstairs, tucking you into bed. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he pulled the sheets over your shoulders. He hardly spent any time with you today. He needed you near. Leaving only his shirt and slacks, he laid beside you, on top of the covers.

‘Just a few minutes.’ He thought, resting his forehead against your cheek.

He listened to your breathing which shortly after lulled him to sleep.

——

The familiar sound of a phone ringing pulled you from your slumber. Blearily blinking up at the ceiling, you let your eyes focus, feeling pressure against your side. Small gusts of air tickled your neck.

Turning, you were met with Sylus. He was out like a light with his arm draped across you.

You took this time to look at him.

With his face completely relaxed, he appeared so sweet. The arrogant aura that clung around him was nonexistent. Though he had a couple of years on you, he had little wrinkles, his face smooth and sharp. You guessed growing up with the amount of money he had, he never really had to stress about anything.

Bringing your hand from under the covers, you traced the bridge of his nose with your pointer finger. When you got to the tip, he sniffled, pressing his face deeper into your skin.

He was so handsome.

His confession from earlier had you feeling like you were on cloud nine. You were so lucky to have someone like him in your life.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the shrill of a phone. You looked around, your eyes landing on the coat thrown lazily over the back of the single-seater, a dim light coming from the pocket. Gently, you removed the arm Sylus had around you and made your way over to the phone.

When you picked it up, a dread filled you.

Caleb

Why would he be calling so late at night?

It was rude to pick up someone else’s phone but it didn’t look like Sylus was going to be waking up anytime soon. Surely he wouldn’t mind. You knew whatever Caleb had to say was going to involve you. On the last ring, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Uh…Hi…Is-uh-Is Sylus available?” The district attorney asked.

“He’s asleep. Is everything okay?” He sounded concerned. “Anything I can help with?”

“Miss, I’m going to need you to sit down. I was hoping Sylus would be the one to break the news for you, probably would be better coming from someone you know, but it wouldn’t be the first time I deliver bad news.”

Your heart was in your throat as you took a seat.

“What is it?” Your voice was a mere whisper.

“One of the guards at the jail your mom’s at was doing their nightly check-ins. When he got to her cell, he noticed she wasn’t on the bed, instead she was on the floor. Once she was examined, she was pronounced dead by the facility’s physician. I’m so sorry, Miss. You can come to claim the body in the morning. I’ll send the details to Sylus.”

Ending the call, you sat in silence before a broken cry came from you, tears sliding down your face. You tried muffling your sobs to not wake Sylus, but it was too late. Said male was beside you in an instant.

“Honey, what’s wrong-”

“She’s dead!” You screamed, the phone sliding from your hand and onto the floor. “Oh god, Sylus, my mom’s dead!”

“That can’t be right. How could she…She’s under constant surveillance. That doesn’t make sense.”

Your hands came up to grab your hair, fingers tangling with the strands before tugging.

“I killed her. It’s my fault she ended up there and now she’s dead! She was right. I’m a disgrace! She didn’t deserve this! She wasn’t the most attentive but she was still my mom, Sylus! And now she’s gone! I’ll never see her again.”

You threw yourself at him. You needed him to ground you. There was no other way of consoling you than to let you air it all out. You needed to cry. All the feelings brewing inside of you needed to come out.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding your face to his chest. Slowly, he moved you two to the ground. He didn’t say anything. He just rocked you back and forth, his hand rubbing your back with soft strokes. Cradling you between his legs, he smiled.

She was gone.

And you had nobody but him.

This was always how it was going to end.

——

Sylus made sure everything went off without a hitch. From the autopsy declaring your mother died from a sudden aneurysm to the cremation niche, her urn was placed in to being filled with her favorite flowers.

Sadly, he didn’t expect you to lose yourself in your sadness. He didn’t get it. Why were you crying for her? She was a shitty person and an even shittier mother.

During the entire ceremony, all he could hear were your sniffles and whimpers. The car ride home was just as silent.

Entering his home, you let him take your coat, your black flats left discarded by the front door. He followed you up the stairs and into your room.

“Sweetie, I think you should-”

“I can’t do this, Sylus.” Your hushed tone filled the space. “I can’t stop thinking about her. She died alone and I can’t stop picturing her face. I need…I can’t…I just need my brain to shut off.”

Turning to look at him as he stood at the foot of the bed, you trailed your eyes over his figure.

In the books you read, it was always mentioned how the female lead would forget everything when she was claimed by her lover. Maybe that’s what you needed. With a sudden wave of confidence, embarrassment be damned, you grabbed the hem of your black dress and pulled it off in one smooth motion.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He could feel his cock hardening as he took in your white lace-clad body. “You’re not-”

You walked over to him. With little force, you had him sitting on the foot of the bed, your form standing in between his spread legs. Holding onto his shoulders, you climbed onto his lap.

His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to touch you so bad. His dick was digging into the zipper of his slacks at this point.

“You’re not thinking right.” He whispered when you brushed your lips against the corner of his mouth.

“Please. Won’t you help me, daddy? I need you to take care of me. Make me forget, please.”

Fucking hell.

He took a deep breath before slotting his lips against yours. Your kisses were novice level but you tasted like pure fucking candy. You’ll learn over time.

With one arm wrapped around your back, he flipped your positions, pressing you into the mattress. While he trailed kisses down your neck and across your chest, suckling on your warm flesh, your hands tried to untuck his shirt. You wanted to feel his skin flushed against yours.

“Off, please.”

“Not yet.” He replied, unclasping your bra with expert fingers. “Let me take care of you first.”

With your breast uncovered, the cool air caused your nipples to perk up, enticing the man in between your legs. Nudging a hardened bud with the tip of his nose, he breathed in your scent as he took it into his mouth.

His tongue was a smooth, warm muscle curling around the hardened point. His hand came up to squeeze your other breast, the fat spilling from in between his fingers. Whatever pattern he made with his tongue, he mimicked with his fingers. Pinching and pulling when he nibbled at your nipple.

Little red splotches slowly appeared and your panties were becoming uncomfortable. Most importantly, his lower half was pressing into your cunt, his dick slotting between your folds. When he slightly rocked his hips, you keened.

“Please, want more…need more, Sylus.”

Pulling away from your breast, he kissed you once more before sliding your panties off. He paid no mind as he tossed the piece of fabric somewhere onto the floor. Slotting his hands under the back of your knees, he positioned you with the soles of your feet on the edge of the bed. He was making you present yourself for him.

Your cunt was sticky with need, the patch of curls shining in the light.

Taking you in, he smiled.

“You’re so fucking perfect, sweetie” He could smell your arousal. “And all mine.”

He fell to his knees, his cheek nuzzling the inside of your thigh.

When his tongue first made contact with your soaked slit, you jumped at the sensation. It was a whole new experience. You’re so grateful that your first time would be with him.

First, it was only tongue, then you felt his fingers prodding your untouched hole. You took in a deep breath when he slid one of his fingers inside of you. Pushing yourself onto your elbows, you watched him stare up at you from between your legs.

His eyes roamed over your face, taking in your expression. Your cheeks burned, not from mortification, but from the immense pleasure he was giving you with his tongue and fingers.

With rapt attention, he watched your face as he slipped in another finger. You hid your face against your shoulder, your breath hitting the warmed-up skin.

“That feels good, sweet girl?”

A quiet uh-huh could be heard, your eyes squeezed shut as a feeling in your tummy appeared. It was a warm pressure in your lower abdomen, almost pulsating as it grew and grew.

The upward curl of his fingers with a particular suck on your clit had you crying out. Your thighs were shaking, begging to shut, but his free hand held you open. His fingers alternated from scissoring you open to pressing on a small spongy spot near your womb.

You fell onto your back, your hips moving against his face. One of your hands snuck into his hair, holding him in place as you gyrated your cunt against his tongue. And he let you. He was enjoying seeing this side of you. You were always so put together, never this needy.

“Oh, daddy, something’s-” You gasped out, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Just as you were about to burst, he pulled away from you. You couldn’t hold back the mewl that left you. How dare he. You were so close.

“Why’d you stop?” Your pout was adorable.

“Not having your first time cumming not be on my cock.”

The furrow in your brow faded as you watched him undress. As if putting a show on for you, you watched as he unbuttoned his shirt in an agonizingly slow way, letting it slide off his arms as his hands moved to the buckle of his belt. The way he pulled out the smooth leather from belt loops was unfairly attractive.

Removing his last bit of clothes, your eyes widen in surprise. His cock, as beautiful as the rest of him, was imposingly large, thickening towards the base. The mushroom tip was an angry red, the cum that he leaked while he ate you out leaving him shiny.

He closed in on you, his hands hooking under your armpits to pick you up, pulling you towards him. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms over his shoulders. When he moved around the bed, you could feel how the head of his dick slapped your ass with each step.

“Needed to have you dripping before I took you, baby.” He settled in the middle of the large bed, you in his lap. Reclining against the fluffy pillows, his hands smoothed up your sides. “I don’t need you hurting yourself as you fuck yourself on my cock.”

Your face burned at his choice of words.

“Normally, I wouldn’t mind being a top. Granted this is your first time, so I’m letting you decide how much you can take.

Spitting into his hand and gathering some of the essence that spilled out of you, earning himself a whine, he wrapped his hand around himself, spreading your musk along his length.

“You wanted me to make you forget and I will, but you need to play your part as well.” He lined himself at your entrance, holding it there for you to take. “Help yourself, sweet girl.”

With one hand at his shoulder and another on his thigh, you lifted yourself onto your knees. As best as you could, you started sliding him inside of you. The mushroom tip popped past your opening with ease. Slowly, you split yourself open on his length.

Once Sylus was sure he wouldn’t slip out, he gestured for you to take his hands. With your hands clasped, he said,

“Start rocking your hips, little by little, you’ll start to take in more of me.”

You were such a good listener.

You did as you told, your head falling back as his base started to stretch you out. Eventually, his cock prodded against your cervix.

“S’full, Sy.” With small bounces, you started to move yourself up and down his length. “So big.”

The sound of wet skin meeting echoed throughout the room.

“You’re doing so well.”

His eyes refused to stay locked in one place. His view alternated from your blissed-out face to the recoil of your breasts, down to the space where you were connected. Your puffy lips were spread to accommodate him, offering him a view of the bundle of nerves.

Your juices spilled out of you with each thrust, leaking down his dick and onto his abdomen.

With a shaky breath, you spoke.

“I can’t…” Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I need you-”

“Want me to help you, sweetie?” He sounds breathless.

Your little heart went soaring.

He was enjoying this. As if his loose jaw and furrowed brows weren’t enough evidence.

“Wanna cum…wanna cum so bad, daddy.”

“Plant your feet on the bed and hold yourself up with my thighs.”

Feeling the muscles flex under your fingers, a keen slipped out as he started fucking into you, his hands grasping the fat of your hips.

You were on full display for him. Your spread legs leave nothing to the imagination. Each time his dick kissed your cervix, little “uh uh uh” spilled out of you. Once he felt your cunt clenching around his cock, he brought a thumb over to your clit, sloppily rubbing circles on it.

With a few more plunges of his cock, he had you squirting against his abs, his seed spilling into you at the sight.

You mewled in embarrassment, hiding your face against your shoulder once more. Accompanied by each buck of your hips, more spurts slipped out of you.

“Oh god. I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-I don’t know how that…why that happened.”

You tried to pull yourself off of him but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he rolled you over, trapping you under his weight.

“Sweetheart, that was so…so fucking hot of you.” He said in between breaths. “I wasn’t planning on letting you go, but after that, they’re going to have to bury me deep in the ground to keep me away.”

Brushing your hair off of your face, he pressed a kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself for the first time.

“Did I do good?” You whispered.

“You’re a temptress and you don’t even know it, sweetie.” He said with a smile, hiding his face against your neck.

‘I’m never letting you go.’ He thought and that was a promise.

224 notes · View notes

subbmissivesuccubus · 2 years ago

Text

Thinking of Younger step-brother Gojo.

CW: Female reader with big boobs. Stepcest. Gojo being a pervert. Mild manipulation? Putting a warning just in case.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who's a bit too close to you. It was cute when you were kids, but now as adults, everyone raises an eyebrow as he continues to stick to you so closely. But you don't mind. You adore your younger brother and knew he'd move on with his life eventually, so you appreciated the time you spent together.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who comes up behind you while you're cooking and hugs you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you to his chest. He leans down and places sweet kisses on your neck, tongue peaking out to give it kitten licks. And if you tell him it's weird and that younger brother's shouldn't kiss their big sister's like that- he convince you that you're wrong and that it isn't a big deal since you're step siblings, afterall.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who still winds up in your bed in the morning, fast asleep with his face on your chest, despite him going to bed in his own room. You had told him multiple times that he couldn't just sneak into your room to sleep next to you, but in the moment, you don't have the heart to kick him out- not when he looks so adorable and peaceful, his arms wrapped around you as he uses you as his pillow.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who convinces you one day to show him your tits, despite you knowing his excuse was complete nonsense. "I've never seem a woman's boobs, Nee-san." he says, despite the fact that his friend Geto has told you about Gojo sleeping around, "All of my friends make fun of me for it. Please? Show me yours?" he gives you the saddest puppy dog eyes and you relent as you just can't say no to that face, his sparkling blue eyes making you forget any protest you might have had.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who nods enthusiastically when you told him that he could only look- not touch. You bite down your embarrassment as you pull your shirt upto your chin, taking your bra with you, as your tits pop out of their confines, settling down with a bounce. His eyes widen, a smile on his face as he stares at your chest, mouth open and watering, not blinking as he looks at your tits like they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who doesn't waste a single second once you nod your head, mouth open and latching onto a breast hungrily. You squeal from the sensation, Gojo's moans and grunts of satisfaction from finally sucking your nipples traveling up your body, making you tremble. He wraps his arms around you, keeping you still and not letting you leave as he lavishes your breasts with skill that turned your legs into putty.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who inches his face closer and closer, making you blush as he says: "You're nipples are getting hard, Nee-san. It's so cute."

"R-Remember!" You say, jumping as you feel his hot breath against your skin, his nose almost touching said nipple "O-Only looking."

"Can I taste, Nee-san? Please?"

"Satoru-"

"Nee-san's tits are so pretty- it's not fair! You can't just show me your boobs and tell me to keep my hands off."

"But you agreed-"

"But I didn't think Nee-san's breasts would be so perfect!" he whined, with an adorable pout on his face, "I thought I would be able to hold back- but I can't. Please, Nee-san. Let me suck your tits? I'll make you feel good, I promise."

Younger stepbrother Gojo who sucks your nipples like his life depended on it. While he sucked on one, rolling it around with his tongue before giving it a few playful nibbles, he pinches the other one with his hand, twisting the bud between his fingers, loving the way you yelp in pain, your voice so sweet as you ask him to be gentle.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who pushes your tits together before stuffing his face into the cleavage and shaking his head from side to side, loving the clap of your tits against his face. You whine as he greedily motor-boated you, not giving you a second to breathe as he immediately start licking the valley of your breasts, the man eager to taste ever part of you.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who's finally satiated an hour later, biting his lower lip once he pulls away and sees what a mess he made of you. Your chest is littered with bite marks and hickies, slick with his saliva from licking you all over and your pretty, sensitive nipples were sucked raw- bite marks surrounding them as they trembled from how much he toyed with them.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who pulls you against him, hands on your ass as he presses your bodies together, smiling at your gasp as you felt his hard-on rub against you. He snuggles his nose into your hair and takes a deep breath, enjoying your scent. He could tell that you were turned on as well, your cunt no doubt drenched from his relentless attack on your tits.

Younger stepbrother Gojo who whispers: "Nee-san..." his hands slipping into the hem of your pants by your hips, slowly starting to pull them down, "Nee-san, I have never seen a woman's pussy and my friends make fun of me. Can you help me? Can I see your pussy?"

Young stepbrother Gojo who's a total pervert for his big sister and knows exactly how to get what he wants.

#subby writes #tw.stepcest #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #jujutsu gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #cw.stepcest

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yeta-drewit · 6 months ago

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Wenclair fic recommendations

I’ve read way too many. About 115.

Also all of this are finished fanfics. I believe.

Edit- yes this are all in ao3 and I did this at like 3 am so I didn’t put links and I’m too lazy to change it now.

MY TOP ONES

-Hunting season by gobreakaneck. OMG THIS FIC, a season 2 fic, angst to the max, slow burn to the max BUT REALLY GOOD SHIT. Like it’s good guys trust. Unfortunately it’s part one of a series so yk I was left crying for more at the end.

-Yours, Eurydice by hanjisgirlfriend- SAD AND CELEBRITY AU. Enid is an actor, Wednesday is a famous writer and they are neighbors and they share letters with pen names because they don’t want the public to know. ITS CUTE.

-I pledge to you (my blood and soul) by Whatiscolor. WRITER OF THIS FIC I WANT TO TROW HANDS. This is genuinely one of the saddest fics I’ve read. Forced marriage Au WITH A LOT OF ANGST. I’m not joking I cried. Angst was angsting.

-Purgatory would be beautiful with you by Emilywritesatuff- Just Wenclair stuff but Wednesday is kind of acting like a werewolf but she isn’t, it’s kind of like they are mates and Wednesday acts like it. I just like it.

-Christmas Eve(L) by miliamin- Fake dating and Christmas what else can I say?.

Weird Aus

-Let’s get political by WishaDream - Gomes and Esther are campaigning for the same government position. Esther tells Enid to hate Wednesday but she can’t. They hate each other in public but almost kiss in secret. Don’t let the weird au get you it’s actually really good. I like the political comments in between the actual Wenclair story.

- Just the taste of you/ blood in the water by littlebirdonair - another weird au but this time Wednesday is an assassin meant to kill journalist Enid. My best description of the story. Enid "I talked to an assassin Yoko" Yoko "omg girl!. Have you told the police?! How are even alive?!" Enid "Omg girl it was the hottest thing ever, she was so fucking hot" Yoko "wtf girl” (Warning there is one explicit scene. I skipped it as it was really short and I’m not interested in that)

-The Heart Knows No Death by viienrose - Enid is brutally murder by her pack and the Addams family can bring her back to life if she wishes to. Wednesday helps Enids soul process her death and the possibility of coming back. Sad shit but kind of cute Wenclair.

- Driving to my house in the middle of the night by AtomicJellyBean - Wednesday ghostbuster, Enid has existential crisis and is a park ranger and a very popular fanart comic came from this story.

-Strawberry and Lilacs by thislonelyrealm - not Nevermore high school au, Wednesday is new in town and Enid has live there her whole life (she also beats up Tyler). I made fanart of one scene.

- So this is love by LoriLoud- season 1 rewrite. lowkey insane and deranged. Not joking. I’m not rereading it so I may be remembering wrong but just so yk how crazy it is they kiss while Esther is literally burning. It gets so bad I think Yoko is the only survivor. Bad representation of the Addams family but a fun read.

-Parce que toi et moi, ca fonctionne (meme si ca ne devrait pas) by bogteats- Eurovision Song Contest AU. Enid is a French singer and gay, the Addams family is a Spanish band (my Mexican ass is sad they had to be Spanish) it’s a really cool celebrity au with Enid trying to hide she is gay. It’s not in French guys.

-The proposal (Wenclair’s Version) by NyxSmols- apparently is the 2009 movie The Proposal but make it Wenclair. Idk I haven’t seen the movie but the fic was cool. Honestly Enid was giving Debbie at the beginning of the fic and I’m all for that.

Normal AUs

-Vortex by Alotofconfusion- Wenclair childhood friend au. I think it’s cute. Enid is pretty much adopted by the Addams, no one believes Enid that she has a gf, they call each other business partners.

- Imprinting is such a bitch by King_boo - Season 1 rewrite where Enid imprints on Wednesday the moment they meet, so its season 1 if they both immediately liked each other. Slight gaslighting by Wednesday but she works on that.

- Like two Mismatched Pieces Put Together by ShadeNeverMadeAnybodyLessGay- Wenclair childhood soulmates. Enid is abandoned but adopted by the Addams. Just cute kids stuff.

-Cool about it by randomiska - they are in college and they are fake dating to stop their friends from trying to get them together. Obviously it backfires.

Normal ig?

- Everyone comes to Yoko’s by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko gets the gays together. Yoko is stressed about the gays and she just wants them to stop bothering her.

- What does he have that I don’t? By Kofeew_milkk- Enid hates that Wednesday smells like Tyler. Cute scenting fic.

-Sweet nothings by Hymenopus- They simp for each other while being in opposites sides of the country. They exchange letters and gifts.

-San Francisco by bishopsinclair_(dustydandelions) - Set during the break, Wednesday goes to San Francisco and werewolf chaos ensues. Blood wolf stuff.

- Raven in the den, wolf in the nest by Barbara_lazuli- Fake dating to spite their moms, it’s really cute specially Enid and the Addams family. There are references to the animated movie, I love Parker.

-Downside of Visions by CelticWolf55- it’s a sick fic and it’s very cute.

To make yourself sad

-Bubble Gum bitch by wishadream - Celebrity AU. Depress actor Enid and assistant Wednesday that doubles as a therapist. They don’t end up together but it’s still cute.

- I’ll love you (from the shadows) by mickeroni -technically not a Wenclair story but it’s a Weems story about her being a sad gay for Morticia and projecting towards Wenclair. She goes to the wedding.

-You drive me crazy (baby) by Sincerely_Sierra- Yoko angst, Enid angst, everyone angst. It’s a taking care of a fake baby trope but what I thought would be like domestic fluff just made me sad. YOKO LOVERS READ THIS SHIT.

Fluff no plot

- It’s just a werewolf thing by WelshCakes68 - Enid blames her gayness on the fact she is a wolf, Wednesday is so whipped she accepts this excuse. Oblivious homosexuals.

Silly ones

- Woes of the Heart by 1unluckystudent - It’s just Enid crashing Wednesday’s and Tyler’s date and being like super jealous and really funny. This Enid behavior is what I want from Enid if Wednesday gets another love interest.

-Potion problems by batzeus99 - Switch personalities and it’s super cute and I think it’s like really funny seeing Wednesday act all happy. Enid just acts like Pip from AGGGTM.

- I’m your garbageman by cowardnthief - Wednesday asks Enid for help on a crush she has. Enid is the crush and she is also obviously to it.

- Black Butterfly by misscanteloupe- Wednesday is jealous and makes Enid hug her while Ajax watches. Wednesday just hates Ajax and I find it hilarious.

Parent fics (because I like this type of content)

-Werewolves made with woe by omnical - Podcasters try to investigate the Addams family. Enid gaslight them into going into the house and absolutely scares the shit out of them. Enid is scary but she is trying to protect her kids.

- Plans of Joy by southernsunrise- They try to have kids. It gets sad but trust it gets better. (Warning miscarriage)

-Double trouble by Pieck_Simp- Wenclair twins. Wenclair moms fighting prejudice against their kids.

Obviously what I like you may not like. Some of this are entertaining but not good representations of the characters. I understand some may have poor writing but it’s fanfics guys not a novel. I encourage you to think critically and not get influenced by this fanfics, not everything you read is good and a representation of good behavior, some of these have questionable behaviors that go unpunished because it’s a fanfic. So do keep that in mind and don’t base your behaviors solely on fan fiction.

#wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #enid sinclair #wenclair #wednesday x enid #fanfic #fanfiction recommendation

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mountkennedie · 6 months ago

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Remember You

Loki x fem!reader

warnings: A N G S T but fluff at the end and like 1 swear word

Summary: You have known Loki since before, during, and after Thanos' torture

Word Count: 1.9k

A.N. Okay I hadn't seen Loki s2 yet for most of this so this is mainly from my own sick little brain. I think this is the saddest thing I have ever written. Enjoy! :)

Life was so simple when you both were just teenagers. Running around Asgard, playing jokes on unsuspecting kin. Practicing magic with Loki's mother, he was always so gifted. You tried as hard as you could but still couldn't fully grasp certain techniques. It didn't matter to him. He helped you gain strength in what you could do.

Those are the memories you held onto on nights like these. When the knowledge of his death would refresh itself in your mind. You still will not completely understand why he fell from the Bifrost. You wanted to hold Odin accountable, but you were merely a best friend of a prince, nothing more to your name. So you stayed up at night, making and remaking the same tricks he had shown you many years ago.

Soon, another dawn came, and you finished out another sleepless night. The circles under your eyes were only growing darker, but you did not pay it much mind.

"Lady Y/n," Thor called. You turned and faced the prince. "I have news you may like to hear."

"And you are sure? ...he lives?"

"Indeed," Thor placed a strong hand on your shoulder. He had a faint smile on his face for just a moment, but then it faded. "I wish my news could be completely good. However, though my brother lives, he is currently rampaging Midgard. I am being sent to bring him back home."

Your joy had overcame every sense. It took a moment to process the rest of what Thor had told you. But once it did, your face fell just the same, "He's what?"

"He has currently killed eighty-one people over the course of two days, Lady Y/n."

You did not want to believe it. You couldn't. Of course, Loki has gone too far before, but this was not of his nature. "That does not sound like him." You took a pause and looked at Thor with a very stern expression, "Bring him back to me."

"I will do what I can." With that, he left, and you sank to the floor. A part of you wanted to rejoice due to him still being a part of this world, but you knew it would be joy misplaced. He was currently terrorizing a planet. What can one say to that?

You visited Heimdall as often as you could. To checking on Loki as much as possible. The feeling of denial you originally bestowed upon him was confirmed one afternoon.

"The prince does not look the same to me as he always has. A veil is shielded over him."

Since that was observed, you held onto it like a strand of life. It provided you rest you terribly needed and slight solace until he was returned. The restlessness did indeed return, however. When the realization that someone had to have overcame the prince's strong will to make him do their bidding. The thought reclaimed the worry over your soul, and your small moment of 'peace' was over.

He is being returned today. You were not supposed to be anywhere near the Bifrost, as any civilian. But you were still as close as possible, which meant you were inside the castle walls. You had to conceal yourself behind a column as they entered. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. However, just like before, that joy was abandoned upon seeing Loki in chains.

You came out of your place of concealment when they had walked past you. You quickly flew to the throne room, where Loki was to be charged.

When you reached the doors, you were held back. "No civilians are allowed beyond this point," you were told by the guard.

"Allow her in," the voice of his mother. You turned and made eye contact with her, then curtsied. She came up to you and held onto your arm. She gave a quick squeeze and a weak smile. You both entered together and stood beside Odin.

"Why has she accompanied you?" He spoke in a sour tone. He did not care to even look in your direction.

"She has a right to be here," The Allmother responded. Odin dropped the matter, and a guard had entered the room.

"He is outside the doors, your majesty."

"Send him in." The guard nodded and turned. He left for a moment, and you noticed the queen inhaled deeply and fixed her posture.

The doors opened, and you held your breath. The sounds of the shackles echoed around the room. You felt your eyes grow heavy in tears, but you knew not to let even one drop. Odin showed no emotion on his throne, as if the man before him was not his own son.

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about." That's him. Your Loki, not that being on Midgard that hurt all those innocent people. His words flowed as they always had, but just like always, Odin was unaffected.

He made a remark to his mother. But once his eyes fell upon you, in that one moment, his confidence was struck. They remained on you for a moment more before continuing his charade with the king.

When the sentence was carried out, he looked for once, defeated. He looked to his mother, then to you one last time. Then, it was promptly removed from the throne room and into the dungeons.

A month has passed now. You finally learned the different times and schedules of the guards and were able to make a plan to get around them. With the lack of the Allmother's word, you were restricted entry just as before. But today, you were ready to strike once again.

Every other Tuesday at 3:45 pm, the guards will take a break. The break itself was unauthorized. However, you appreciated the obstruction to the rule since it gave you time. Once out of ear shot of the guards, you opened to heavy doors leading to the prisons beneath the kingdom.

The smell hit you first. A wave of different creatures, all perspiring in unity with one another. Your cloak, worn to conceal your identity, could only do so much in masking the odor. You had no clue which cell he would be in, but you believe the worst was behind you. With quick strides, the hunt began.

Should I ask for directions? you thought. Of course not! You are in the dungeons of Asgard not the village market! In your defense, the place was a maze. Crafted to confuse an inmate incase of its escape.

You continued on a few paces before turning a corner. Something caught your eye. Something was sticking out amongst all the other inmates. You followed that alluring feeling up to the cell you'd been looking for.

His back was faced to you, but you noticed upon you walking towards him. He looked up. "Has my mother sent a new morsel to keep me entertained?" He faced you with mock amusement. "Who are you supposed to be?"

You reached up and removed the hood from your head. His face changed from amused to confounded. He grew close to the wall, separating you two. "Is this some sort of trick? Who was put up to this?"

You took a moment to gather your words. "What do you mean? Do you not believe I have come?" Your voice was frail. You were not expecting this reaction from him at all.

"I believe the one that currently sits on the throne will stop at nothing to pin to the bottom of misery itself." He leaned down to get closer to your eye level, though the barrier still blocked you both. "And what have you got to prove you are not another game for me to lose?" His voice was cold. A part of you wanted to ask what Odin did to make him lose trust in everything before him. However, that was not what he wanted to hear right now.

You sucked in a breath and then held out your hand. You conjured a purple snake with green spots. The image you would always match with his green snake with purple spots. This was what he taught you about how to make one warm summer night.

When the memory was triggered, Loki nearly threw himself on the shield. Instead, he fell to his knees and got to the edge of the cell. "(Y/n)... oh (Y/n)... how did you even get in here?"'

"I snuck in. It took much more planning than you would have thought," Though he was still in captivity, you couldn't help but smile as you saw him. And most importantly, he saw you.

He shook his head, "I've missed you. But you shouldn't be here. I don't want," he looked around the room, "them to know of you too much."

"I know, but -" You heard a scuffle. "Shit, how long has it been? I think the new guards have been appointed. I have to go." You sped off, and from behind, you heard Loki hit the glass, then groan in pain. But you swore to yourself to return for him again.

So much had happened in the span of a month. Frigga was dead. Loki broke out of jail, and you, with your help, Thor, Jane, and him, made it to the other realm. After your part of the plan was complete, you were to return to Asgard and help defend it from any dark elves that could attack.

But now the three of them were supposed to return. You looked out, waiting to see Loki accompanying Thor. But we were met with only the older brother. When he crossed into the palace, you approached him.

He beat you to ask your question with an answer. "I regret to inform you that once more, my brother will not be returning home."

You didn't know if you thought it or screamed it, but the overwhelming feeling of dread was all you could express. How could this happen again? You had just gotten him back.

Odin was not acting like Odin. You could be losing yourself in grief and seeing your former- friend- everywhere. It was strange. You knew Odin was acting out of character, but to say he was acting like Loki was bold. Even for you.

So, it led you to confront the king after one of the plays had finished. "Allfather. I would like to request an audience." What you did not expect was for the king to accept.

The pair of you went into the palace, and there you confronted him. "This may come off as strange but -"

"I can't." You looked at him with a confused expression. "I can't keep lying. To you." The appearance of Odin melted away to reveal your former lov- friend. You didn't respond at first. Just stared, astonished.

"Please say something," he pleaded. Instead, you slapped him clean across the face. "I see how I deserve that." You brought him into your arms and held onto him close. The tears in my eyes overflowing down my face.

"Why didn't you tell me? At least me?" Your words were strung out slurred slightly. You just kept repeating your question, and he held you for a while until your breathing calmed down.

"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to explain everything to you. I wanted it all to be clear as day, especially for you. But I couldn't just yet. I needed to -"

You pulled back. "Wait," you interrupted, "If you're playing Odin. Then where's the real one?"

"Midgard."

"Loki..." you facepalmed.

"But he is being taken care of. They have these homes that take care of those who are later in life. He's fine," his voice was rushed.

You sighed and rested your head on his chest. "Don't die on me again. Or at least tell me when you plan to? I don't know. But whatever you do just," you look him in the eyes, "don't leave me again."

"I won't." If only that were true.

A.N. Hope this broke you the way it broke me lol

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writtenicarus · 11 months ago

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a serious post for the marauders fandom - please reblog, share etc.

hello marauders fandom! it has come to my attention that there is something this fandom seriously needs to address and i think im going to have to be the one to do it. PLEASE stop using Reiky De Valk as your james fancast. you may be asking me why em? why are you so angered? Reiky took his own life on september 24th, 2023. and whilst yes of course it is necessary to remember him in his work in the film industry and not how he passed - it is incredibly disrespectful to address him as james or fabricate something he was not. he was a brilliant, talented and amazing man. he was not james potter.

alongside this, many people claim to headcanon james as desi whilst using Reiky. Reiky was not desi, he was vietnamese, dutch and somalian. notice how he's a real person? he had passions, talents and loved ones. his funeral was one of the saddest things i ever watched. and unlike the majority, i loved him for who he was and not what he brought to us. i watched the funeral, and i think of him.

and yet some of you, i bet, did not even know this.

i have seen people become incredibly rude and ignorant when i have informed them of this, but it is something i just cannot stand for.

Reiky deserves to be remembered for who he was. not who we made him.

5th march 2000 - 24th september 2023

#reiky de valk #marauders au #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #the marauders fandom #james potter

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jammatown919 · 1 month ago

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Worth It in The End

(Based on a silly post I made earlier about a silly conversation with my friend)

Four years later, Yaz still jolts awake some nights thinking about that night in Italy. ------ Even after all these years, Sammy was never particularly surprised to wake up to sniffling in the middle of the night. Though it had been ten years since that horrible incident on Isla Nublar, and four since the fiasco with Brooklynn, the Broker, and Biosyn, the experiences had never really left any of them. Especially Yaz, who, despite all the progress she'd made healing from her PTSD, still had nightmares every so often.

Not nearly as often as before, when she rarely made it through the night without screaming herself awake, but occasionally. Every few months or so. Not enough to interfere too much with her regular sleep, but enough that Sammy was still used to rolling over to comfort her crying wife.

"Yaz?" she murmured in the darkness, reaching out to pull Yaz closer. It turned into an awkward attempted grab, as Yaz was already sitting up, and Sammy's arm just ended up draped over her lap.

"I'm okay," Yaz said, her voice watery. She sniffed, wiping aggressively at her face. "Sorry."

"I thought we agreed you don't apologize for this." Sammy propped herself up so that they could look each other in the eye more easily. "Your nightmares aren't your fault."

"I didn't-" Yaz began, then cut herself off with a pathetic little hiccup.

"You didn't have a nightmare?" Sammy put a gentle hand on her shoulder, wondering what else could possibly be so wrong that Yaz would be awake crying at this hour.

"Not really," Yaz said. "It's so stupid."

"Don't say that," Sammy replied softly. "What's going on, baby?"

"You're not allowed to laugh me."

"Why in the world would I laugh at you?"

"I had this dumb dream," Yaz whimpered, "about Italy a few years ago. When we... y'know."

Sammy stared at her for a moment, not because she didn't know what that meant, but because it was objectively the strangest thing Yaz had ever cried to her about. And that was saying something, being married to Little Miss Guilty Crier who had teared up a few days ago over burning a pot pie.

"When we broke up for three days four years ago?" she asked.

"I told you it was stupid!" Yaz buried her face in her hands, still crying, and Sammy honestly didn't know how to react.

She'd thought they were long over this. They'd gotten back together almost immediately and been going strong for four years now, married for almost two. In the grand scheme of things, it was just a blip in their otherwise steady ten-year relationship. Sure, it had been part of a larger rough patch, but everything had worked out in the end.

Had this really just been festering in the back of Yaz's mind all this time?

"Darlin'..." Sammy murmured, "that still bothers you this much?"

"I mean, not usually," Yaz replied, sweeping her hands across her damp cheeks. "But it sucked when it happened, and it sucked to relive it. I was so scared I was going to lose you forever. I was such a jerk."

"But we worked it out," Sammy tried. "We were always going to work it out. It's not like I ever stopped loving you. It was a bad situation all around, but we were stronger than all that. You're still the love of my life, even when you're a jerk."

"Really?" Yaz looked at her with the biggest, saddest, most pathetic wet eyes Sammy had ever seen.

The hilarity of it hit her like a truck. Her poor silly goose of a wife, with her tear-filled eyes silently asking, you were mad at me in my dream, do you still love me?

"Yes, really." Sammy put an arm around her and pulled her in close. "I always love you. I love you when we're in a rough patch, and I love you when you cry over the silliest things."

"You're still not allowed to laugh at me," Yaz grumbled, which was incredibly hard not to laugh at when mixed with her quivering, watery voice.

"Do you hear me laughing?" Sammy planted a little kiss on the side of Yaz's head. "I know it was awful, but we're okay now. I made you my wife, so we must be."

"I know..." Yaz leaned back against her pillow and let out a heavy sigh, then sniffed loudly one last time. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Hey, what did I say?" Sammy asked firmly. "You don't apologize for having bad dreams. You can't control that."

"I feel bad for waking you up," Yaz replied. "It's not like I was actually freaking out. I didn't need-"

"You stop that." Sammy laid back down with her head resting against Yaz's shoulder. "What kind of woman would I be if I didn't wake up to comfort my poor, crying wife? Doesn't matter how silly it seems. Besides, this ain't half as bad as when you tried to make me jelly donuts."

"Those were frustration tears!" Yaz protested. "It's hard to clean burned jelly off the ceiling!"

"I still don't know how the hell you managed to get it up there in first place," Sammy remarked, fully laughing now. "I mean, you're not even a bad cook. What happened?"

"I don't know." Yaz made a valiant effort to hold back her chuckles, but soon they were both muffling their laughter in each other's bodies.

By the time they were finished, Yaz had completely relaxed, her tears mostly dried. Sammy remained cuddled up close, her breaths gently blowing a few strands of Yaz's hair to the side.

"Feel better, sweetpea?" she asked.

"Yeah," Yaz replied, nuzzling into her. "I love you so much. I'm so glad you decided to give me another chance."

"Love you too," Sammy murmured. "You were worth it."

They settled back in to sleep like that, slotted against each other where they belonged. It seemed silly now, that there had ever been a moment in which they'd questioned their future together. They hadn't even managed to stay apart for three days; of course they could never walk away from this. Not with the kind of love they had.

It had been worth fighting for back then, and Sammy knew she would fight for it again if she had to. Whatever happened, however much work it took, so long as Yaz was right there with her, they would overcome anything. Together, just as they should be.

------ Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or buying the writer a coffee!

#yasammy #yasmina fadoula #sammy gutierrez #jurassic world chaos theory #jurassic world camp cretaceous #jwct #my writing

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reality-detective · 10 months ago

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It’s time for me to have another rant! 👇

Buckle up!!! ⚔️🛡️

The State of America:

I am angry. As an American, I am sick and tired of what this country has become. I do probably curse more than I should, but I am pissed off.

Our schools: Children are being indoctrinated by school teachers about sexual activity rather than things they should be learning about. You know, like civics, math, real history and science? What grown ass adult wants to discuss sexual intercourse with a minor? I’ll tell you, a social deviant fucking pervert. That’s who. I will not expose any child to that madness ever.

Our military: Our military is the weakest it has ever been. I have friends that are still in the military and they cannot wait to get out. Not because of their lack of service to this country, but the lack of leadership. The good ones are tired of getting slammed with “woke” PowerPoints on shit that doesn’t even matter to military readiness. It’s dumb. And our adversaries are laughing at us. I can’t even recommend someone to join the military until it is returned to its rightful place as the strongest military in the world.

Our southern border: The southern border is a dumpster fire. More illegal aliens and fentanyl are pouring through the border at record rates. The saddest part about this is the Democrats are wanting ILLEGALS to vote for any and all elections. Democrats only use their party for votes to continue their reign of power, while their own districts are literal shit-holes. Republicans are not safe from this and they really aren't much better. If they wanted the border shut down they would too. Always remember that Americans being murdered was never enough to shut the border down.

Joe Biden: I will never accept the thought that Joe Biden got 81 million votes. You cannot make me believe that the alleged President of the United States of America got the most votes in American history, then was kicked out from running by his own party. Give me a fucking break.

Kamala Harris: This Indian American woman locked up more black men than I have ever seen in my life. She doesn’t care about black people. Never has and never will. She just wants your vote.

Mainstream Media: These retards have been fed so much propaganda that they actually think Donald Trump will incite a civil war if he doesn’t win the 2024 election. You all have an extra chromosome if you truly believe that. There are some that are just gaslighting but a large portion of the population is too stupid to vote if they can’t decipher this.

Speaking of Donald Trump: This man has been given more bullshit to a public servant that I have ever seen in my life. For crying out loud, it has been over 2 weeks since the Deep State almost took his life and no one has been held truly accountable. They are all behind it until proven otherwise. Imagine if that was the other way around. Democrats would want to put the nation on lockdown like they did during COVID.

National debt: As of today the United States is at $35,000,000,000,000.00 in debt. How irresponsible of adults. I will never be gaslit to send money overseas anymore especially since Americans are struggling to put food on their table. How outrageously treasonous.

And to top all of this off. I am a white male that was in the military and now I'm considered a domestic terrorist by some. How unbelievable is this? The same ones that are backing the Military Industrial Complex. The same “elected leaders” that I served, don’t have our backs when we return home. The military are the ones that uphold and defend the Constitution, not them.

This is not what America should be about. This is not the country I served. Not anymore.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!! 🤔

God Bless America. 🇺🇸

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thetxtdevil · 11 months ago

Note

Helloooo!! Can you do soobin with a breeding kink x subbunyhybrid!reader ? Bunnies just love to get bred the fck out tbh

You’re so true for that

---

Soobin arrives at the house fully expecting a bunny jumping into his arms. He was gone for a while and all day all he could think of was his bunny girlfriend and how much she probably misses him. Soobin walks into the quiet house, looking around seeing no signs of life. The kitchen was spotless, the TV screen was off, the only evidence of you was the couch. A fuzzy blanket draped across the dented couch cushions, Soobin walks over seeing your phone left behind. He picked it up eyes widening seeing one of his nudes he sent you a while ago. Dimpled smile forming on his face sighing at his theory of what you’re probably up to.

Walking quietly to your shared room, lo and behold a horny bunny. Raised eyebrows above his big chestnut eyes staring at you fully naked bouncing on a bright purple dildo. You were moaning so loudly that you didn't notice Soobin's presence. Tits bouncing along your floppy ears it was truly the most beautiful thing Soobin has ever seen. He sits on the bed happy to watch you keep fucking yourself until the droop of the bed made you lose balance. Your eye shoot open, fluffy bunny ears perking up, finally realizing the viewer in the bedroom.

"Uh- I'm sorry, I missed you" you squeak stopping your movements, "I-i was admiring photos I have of you and,,, well, I landed on one of you holding your dick and I-" your eyes drifted off.

Soobin chuckles, he knew what he was getting into when getting a bunny hybrid, they were known to be sex crazed and you were no exception. Your long ears low as you look back on him giving your biggest saddest eyes then glance at the tent in his trousers, you grin moving your hands towards the waistband of his pants. Soobin leans back letting you do you want, unbuckling and dragging down his pants. His cock was instantly in your hand and other hand massaging his balls.

Soobin sighs at the felling, "Tell me what you were thinking about seeing my picture..."

"I was thinking about how handsome you are, how good this dick feels, and how good it feels when my insides are warm with your cum" you say as you kiss his plumped lips.

"Why don't you forget about that dildo and bounce on me, let me breed you" Soobin quirks an eyebrow.

You whimper, dildo thrown out and quickly straddling the man. You loved how much he knew you and your bunny needs.

A nuisances,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt x you #txt x y/n #txt x reader #soobin scenarios #soobin smut #soobin x reader #soobin x y/n #soobin x you #txt devil asks

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holdmytesseract · 1 year ago

Text

A Stroke Of Fate

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N

Summary: Life isn't always sunshine and rainbows. You and Loki learn that in a very hard way. A path you are forced to walk on, which puts your love, relationship and even marriage to the test.

Warnings: 18+! MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! Angst, grief, sadness, loss, fights, mentions of injuries, pregnancy/pregnancy loss! trauma, misunderstandings, inappropriate touching - no rape, but it goes in that direction, violence? fluff! tiny bit of suggestive smut - blink and you'll miss it. Tell me if I missed something!

Word Count: 6k

a/n: This is most likely the saddest thing I have ever written - and it hurt me to the very core to do this to Y/N and Loki, but I had to. The idea was in my head for a long time. I fully blame 'Stay' by Rihanna and Mikky Echo.

Also, this isn't just another Baby Fever fic... This takes their story into a new direction - kind of...

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Loki’s eyes widened in realisation; jaw slacking. He wasn't able to move a single muscle. All he could do was stare. Stare at the tiny, seemingly plain object laying inside his big palms.

Millions of thoughts ran through his head at lightning speed. The god's heart pounded violently against his ribcage. He tried to focus, but he couldn't. Too overwhelmed by the various emotions coursing through his veins.

But at last, he felt how the happiness finally took the upper hand and overweighed everything.

Tears started to pool in his oceanic blues; clouding his vision. And with the first tears falling from the corner of his eyes, Loki sunk to his knees on the bathroom floor; clutching the small object tightly against his chest; crying.

All he wanted was to get a towel from the little cabinet underneath the sink to clean up the mess two-year-old baby Narfi had made with his sippy cup - and now he was holding the future in his hands. Literally.

Loki had anticipated a lot... But certainly not to find a positive pregnancy test. Obviously, your pregnancy test; hidden in between the towels.

"Rogers!" Loki called after Cap, before he could step inside the elevator. The blond man's eyes lifted and landed on the god, who was literally jogging down the long hallway, with little Narfi on his arm.

"Have... Have you seen my wife?" He asked; tears still pricking his eyes. Steve raised an eyebrow and thoroughly scanned the prince's features. "Is everything alright, Laufeyson?" Loki nodded quickly; causing his raven locks to gently bounce against his shoulders. "More than alright, Rogers. Now have you seen my wife?" "Um, yes, I- I think she's in the training room, testing her new combat suit. At least that's what Y/N said earlier when we-" Loki slapped Steve's shoulder; interrupted him. "Thank you, Rogers." The god smiled at Steve and rushed past him; quickly pressing the button on the elevator.

Before the soldier could react, the metallic doors shut close in front of him.

Loki could barely contain his excitement. Something the little man on his arm noticed as well...

Narfi looked at his father with big ruby eyes. Sure, he didn't understand the situation, but the boy also didn't have to yet. He was still so young. Lifting a little blue hand, Narfi touched his father's cheek; feeling a tear against his tiny fingers. "Daddy?"

Loki smiled at his son. He adjusted the two-year-old on his arm and turned his head; kissing his palm and blew a raspberry against the skin - which caused Narfi to giggle and Loki to smile even wider. "Let's go, see mommy, yes?" He run his free hand through Narfi's short black curls; still fighting the tears. "See mama?" The god nodded; chuckling. "Yes, little man."

With a ding arrived the elevator on the 5th floor and the doors slid open. Loki stepped out and let Narfi stand on his own small two feet. Then the god squatted down and quickly fixed the boy's jumper. Today he wore the beige one with the dinosaurs on it - gifted to him by his uncle Scott. Narfi's forest green sweatpants needed adjustment, too, since they were still a little too big. After that was done, he stood up again and took Narfi by his hand. "Come one, buddy."

Together, they rounded the corner and entered the training room - well, rather small hall. It had everything an Avenger needed to prepare and train for missions.

Loki’s eyes immediately searched for you - and they found you quickly. You were standing on a mat; doing some stretches, launches and small jumps. Testing your new combat suit - like Steve said. If it weren't for all the Serotonin and Oxytocin coursing through his veins, he'd probably ravish you right then and there. Anyways, he was happy that no one was around...

Narfi was the one to announce your men's arrival. As soon as he saw you, he squealed out and ran as fast as his little legs carried him towards you.

"Mama!"

You immediately turned at the call of your child; seeing Narfi and Loki. You smiled and squatted down; ready to catch the boy. "Mama!" "Hey, sweetie!" You hugged him close and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Are you and daddy visiting me?" Your son nodded. "Uh.Huh." "Ohh, that's great." You ruffled his hair and stood up again to greet Loki.

"Hey, babe." You smiled and wrapped your arms around your husband's neck. "Hello, love." He placed his hands on your hips; pulling you closer. That was the moment you saw tears glistening in his eyes. He cried... You were of course immediately worried; your brows slanting. "Loki, why are you crying? What is-" He interrupted you with his lips on yours; kissing you with all the love he possessed for you.

Only Narfi's little tuck on his sweatpants was able to break the kiss. "Daddy! Narfi pway ball?" Both, yours and Loki's gaze followed Narfi's pointing. Loki chuckled; realising that the blue softball the boy always played with when he was with you or Loki laid only a few meters away from him. "Sure, buddy, go play."

Narfi ran away; giggling and started to kick the ball across the floor.

"Loki, what is it? You are crying, what's the matter?" Your husband smiled; thumbs tracing over your clothed hips. "I love your new suit." You couldn't help but smile as well, but still quite a bit confused. "Thank you, I... I thought it was time for a new one." "It fits you, my love. You look absolutely ravishing, if I might say so." You bit your lip; noticing the naughty, mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "Ahh, I see..." You giggled and pulled him into another kiss; not forgetting to cast an eye on your son now and then.

With a soft pop ended Loki the kiss - still smiling like a Cheshire cat. "But... You won't need this suit very much longer, right?" He whispered, and you could see how another tear rolled down his cheek.

And suddenly it fell like scales from your eyes. Your brain had quickly connected the dots.

You swallowed. "You... You found the-" "Pregnancy test, yes." Loki finished your sentence with a small sob. "B-But how? I thought I hid it so well..." The god chuckled; shaking his head. A tear dropped from his chin on his sweater. "Not good enough, my love. Narfi spilled water over the table with his sippy cup a-and I needed a towel, so..." You face-palmed yourself. "So you looked in the cupboard underneath the sink, of course. Silly me..." You giggled along Loki, who pulled you closer again.

"I assume you planned to surprise me. I apologise for ruining it." You shook your head; playing with the curls on the nape of his neck. "Indeed yes, but it's okay. It's been a surprise for you nevertheless..." Your husband shook his head - still in disbelief and with silent tears running down his cheeks. "I can't believe that this little joke of ours turned into reality so quick." "Well... I have been asking for it and challenged you, so..." A deep chuckle rumbled through Loki's chest. "Never challenge a half Frost Giant in spring to such things." "Yup, lesson learned," you giggled.

Your husband wrapped you up in a big hug then; holding you close, while you kissed his tears away. "No, honestly, darling... This is great," he whispered; gazing deeply into his eyes. Loki was positively radiating happiness - you could feel it. You nodded. "It is."

He kissed you once again; soft lips melting against yours.

You and Loki sat down on one of the benches then, which lined the wall beside the entrance; watching Narfi play and burn off energy. You had placed a hand on his thigh - which Loki had now wrapped up in his bigger hand.

"When did you take the test, love? And do you know how far along you are? I tried to figure it out myself, but we do way too much love making to do so." A snort, followed by a laugh slipped past your lips and you slapped his thigh. "Loki!" "What?" He asked; smiling mischievously and shrugged his shoulders. "It's the truth, is it not?" You just giggled, but nodded.

He wasn't wrong, after all.

"I took the test three days ago, but I have absolute no idea how far along I am. I'm gonna call my gynaecologist tomorrow and make an appointment." You smiled and squeezed his hand. "You could accompany me..." Loki gazed into your eyes and tuck a loose strand behind your ear. "I'd love to."

Just a few days later, you had your appointment at your gynaecologist's. Loki accompanied you. Ella was at school and Narfi with his auntie Nat. A white lie needed to be told to your best friend, since you didn't want to shout the good news from the rooftops yet.

The pregnancy test you took didn't lie to you. You were, in fact, pregnant again. Five weeks, said your gynaecologist, so it was new, fresh and vulnerable. You and Loki decided to tell it nobody yet. Not a single soul. Not even Frigga. And it turned out to be the right decision, because what happened only three weeks later was something you never thought would happen. At least to you...

"Are you sure you don't want to join us?" You asked Loki, while you stood in front of the mirror. The god was leaning against the wall of the bathroom behind you. He had his hair tied up into a bun and his hands buried in the pockets of his sweatpants. "No, thank you, darling. I'd rather stay here with the kids." You giggled and caught his gaze in the mirror. "Does that mean you prefer Ella's tea party over a night out?"

Loki couldn't help but smirk, "Oh, definitely." and join your laughter.

"Alright..." You started; lastly applying some perfume to complete your look. "I'll be going now." You turned to face your husband. Placing both hands on his chest, you leaned in to kiss him.

Loki nodded; pulling you closer by the belt around your waist. "Take care, alright? Please, by the love of the Norns, look after yourself and the little bean, yes?" You rubbed your palms across his pecs. "Of course, my love. I promise." You kissed him again and then left the bathroom. "And no alcohol!" You heard Loki calling after you. "I know, babe!" You giggled.

After you bid your goodbye to Ella and Narfi; giving them both a big smooch on the cheek, you met up with Nat and Jane to go out for a, well... small girl's night out.

The actual plan was to do a 'couple night's out' - but none of the boys wanted to join in and Pepper and Jane didn't have time in the end as well. Therefore it was just you, Nat and Wanda.

"No Loki?" asked Jane as you walked out of the building. "Nope... He preferred Ella's tea party." That had the three of you giggling. "Understandable," threw Nat in. "Ella's tea parties are the best."

You and the girls headed for your favourite bar; talked, danced and definitely had fun. It seemed like a perfect night. At that point, you not waisted one thought that it could turn some way somehow sour...

But it did. In the worst way possible. A harmless night, which turned into a nightmare.

Shaky hands reached for your mobile. It was almost midnight. You had danced around this for minutes now; not conjuring enough bravery to call him. By now you've tried about a million times - failing.

So, once more you took a deep breath, squeezed your red and teary eyes shut and swallowed the lump in your throat. Your finger hovered above the green button beside your husband's contact.

I have to, I have to, I need to, I want to, you repeated within your head like a mantra, now or never - and finally tapped on the button.

His phone rang. One, two, three, four, a fifth time. You already were on the verge of hanging up when a sleep filled voice croaked out: "Darling?"

On every other day you'd have found Loki's sleepy voice drop-dead sexy... Not today.

"L-Loki?" You heard a bit of a rustling on the other end. "M here, my love, 'm here," he said huskily; "Wha' is it?" audibly trying to wake up. You swallowed hard. "I-I..." You had to cut off your own sentence, in order to hold back the tears - unsuccessfully. A small sob slipped past your quivering lips. Something the god on the other end picked up. It didn't slip his notice.

He immediately sat up and switched on the lamp above his bedside table; wide awake all of a sudden. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I... I am at t-the h-hospital."

Loki's eyes widened instantly in shock and fear; his heartbeat skyrocketing. "I beg your pardon; you are where?" You swallowed again; feeling the tears run down your cheeks. "The h-hospital."

Loki was already jumping out of bed.

"What?! Why?! By the Norns, what happened?! Are you hurt?!"

You wanted to scream.

"T-There was... was an incident at the b-bar and-" Loki was already slipping inside a white shirt; hastily buttoning it up and totally forgetting about his magical abilities at that moment. All he could think about was you... And his unborn child.

"I'm coming, love! I'm on my way, I-" "No," you interrupted your husband; causing him to stop dead in his movements - frowning.

"Stay w-with the kids, okay? You..." Fresh tears ran down your cheeks. "You can't leave them a-alone." "But..." Loki threw immediately in; blinded by his fear and worry about the woman he loved; about to just act headless. "Please, Loki, please," you pleaded. "Natasha is going t-to take me home. I-I just wanted to... To tell you."

Your words confused Loki. She can leave the hospital already? "B-But, love, what-" You couldn't take this anymore. You didn't have the strength to talk to him further - and you'd need all your remaining power to keep up the façade later in front of your best friend. "I'll tell you later, I p-promise," you managed to somehow choke out...

...and hung up.

Natasha and you had returned to the Avengers compound about an hour later. Now you were standing in front of the door to your family's apartment. You were exhausted. So utterly exhausted. All your power spent on crying and pretending everything was alright. All you wanted was to break down and cry yourself to sleep - but you had to talk to your husband first...

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside the dark apartment. Mostly dark apartment. The only light source came from the living room. He was waiting for you. Of course he was waiting for you.

You could already picture it in your head. He'd walk up and down in the room; worried and afraid - like a caged and hurt animal.

You took a deep breath; gathered all your leftover strength and made your way into the living room.

Loki was indeed walking up and down the room, but currently had his back to you and a hand in his messy curls. You swallowed.

"Loki..."

The soft, almost inaudible call of his name attracted his attention. He swiftly turned around; facing you. Worry was written all over his face. Your husband's eyes widened, "Y/N!" before he literally ran over to you. His big palms landed on the sides of your upper arms and his oceanic, tear stained blues wandered up and down your body; searching for injuries. "What happened?! What is wrong?! How are you feeling?!" The god's mind was racing - already. And you'd make it worse.

Tears pooled in your eyes again, just at the mere thought of what you were going to tell him.

"At... At the bar, there was an... an incident and-" While you spoke, his palms had wandered down your arms and to your hands. He lifted them gently and wanted to kiss your knuckles, as a frown formed on his forehead. "Y/N, what..." Loki interrupted you; thumbs brushing over the bruises on your wrists. "What is this? Tell me what happened, please. Right now."

You swallowed again, nodding. "There was a-a man. He... He had his eyes on me the whole evening. I could feel it. He was watching me. Just me. Not N-Nat or Wanda. Me." You could already see how Loki's jaw tightened. Anger was taking over his system already. "At s-some point I had to go to the ladies. He... He followed me. He said that he had cast an... an eye on me and that he would like to..." You cut off your own sentence. Not that you needed to finish it. Loki knew what you were going to say. "I refused, of course. T-Tried to stay polite and leave, but... He didn't let me. He... He trapped me inside the ladies, caged me against the wall." That's where the bruises come from, Loki thought. "I fought against it - against him. He was so strong."

Loki felt like he could burst because of the anger and fear running through his veins. "Please tell me he didn't..."

You knew what he wanted to say and quickly shook your head. "N-No, I headbutted him, t-then kicked him in the balls a-and perhaps even broke his nose." A relieved breath left your husbands lips. "That's my girl."

"He fled then, but..." Loki’s face hardened again. "But what?" Deep down the god knew there must have happened something else. Unless Natasha and Wanda wouldn't have taken you to the hospital.

"He... He had slammed my head against the wall, which resulted in a small cut and-" "There's more?!" You could already hear in his voice that he was furious once more. You knew that he'd love to find that guy right now and do terrible, awful things to him.

You nodded once more. "When he grabbed me, I... I tried to fight against him a-and escape. I almost made it, but then he..." You had to swallow down the lump in your throat and suppress the tears. "He kneed me in the s-stomach to prevent me from e-escaping."

Your husband's mind was way too clouded with anger and fear. He couldn't think clearly, and therefore was unable to connect the dots. Norse curse words spluttered from his lips and his eyes darkened. Threat his family and you'll bring out the darkest side of him - you knew that.

"I'll find him, my love." "Loki." You spoke in a weak voice, trying to get through to him. "I'll find him and then I'll kill him." "Loki." "Slowly and intimately." "Loki, please." "I'll make him pay for what he did to you and-" You couldn't take it any longer. You had to tell him.

"Loki, I lost the baby."

Your sentence cut through the air like his daggers through skin. Loki's mouth clapped shut and a very unpleasant silence spread in the living room. He needed a second to process your words. You just stared at him; silent tears running down your cheeks and dripping on your blouse, as you watched Loki fall apart in front of you.

"W-What?" He croaked out; seemingly still unable to grasp this.

"I... I lost our baby."

He started to shake his head. "No, that's... It can't be. Everything was alright!" "I know," you sobbed. "But I was at the hospital... They checked. The incident caused the m-miscarriage." You stepped closer and reached for his hands. Loki blinked; tears escaping the corner of his eyes. "I-I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry."

You wanted to hug your husband; catch him mid-falling and preferably crash on the hard ground of reality together with him - but he took a step back. "No, no, no, no..." His hands suddenly dropped yours. Without his touch, you had never felt more cold and lonely.

"Loki, what-" "This is your fault." He suddenly exclaimed; driving an invisible dagger straight through your heart. "It's your fault, Y/N and you know it. I told you! I told you to stay and not go in the first place! I told you to take it easy this early in the pregnancy!" He ran both his hands over his face and tugged frustratingly at his raven curls, while you just stood there; frozen. You didn't know what was happening.

"We almost lost Narfi, because you explicitly wanted to accompany me to that stupid charity event and now?! Now exactly that happened, of what I've always been afraid of! Of what I've always warned you! But no... You just didn't want to listen!"

You were still staring at him, mouth agape. This wasn't real, you thought. I must be dreaming.

"M-My... My fault?" You croaked out; feeling like you were going to fall apart. "Yes!" Loki hissed. "You heard what I said, did you not?!" Sure, you understood that this was equally as hard and sad as it was for you. You understood the cocktail of emotions which must be brewing inside of him, but that... That was unacceptable. You hoped he'd catch you, be there for you, grieve together with you... But certainly not that he'd blame you.

"How can you blame me for this? I didn't kick myself in the gut, did I? Besides, you could've just accompanied me! Perhaps all of this would've never happened, but no, Mr. Laufeyson didn't want to!" You felt how anger rose within you as well. It was just too much.

"Me?!" Loki hissed; pressing his pointer finger in the muscle on his chest. "Oh, I'm the one to blame now?! Sure... It's easy to blame me - for everyone! Just blame the former war criminal. Just blame the untrustworthy god. Just blame the monster from another realm - and all your problems are solved!" He laughed bitterly; shaking his head.

"That's... That's not what I meant - and you know it!" Your husband cocked his head. "Oh no? It's not? Enlighten me then, Y/N!"

You sighed. "Look... I understand your worries. I really do, but I can't just sit on the sofa 24/7 and not move a muscle, just because I'm pregnant! That's not how it works!"

Loki snorted. "Well, it should! As you can see, everything else is apparently not working!" You shook your head; stepped closer to Loki. "We... We just lost our baby... Shouldn't we... Shouldn't we grieve toge-" The god interrupted you, tears streaming down his face. "Yes, and I'm not the one to blame." With those words he brushed past you, "I will be sleeping on the sofa tonight." and left you behind; feeling more cold and lonely than you ever did in your whole life before...

The loss of the new life growing within you and the fight you and Loki had that night caused a wide rift to appear between the two of you. It split your relationship apart. Everything else would be a lie.

You felt how he grew cold and distant. Just like you did. The once perfectly harmonic, loving and desiring bond cracked.

Sure, there had always been fights, misunderstandings and disagreements - totally normal things. But this... This was different.

...and you just didn't know how to stop your marriage from falling apart...

Whenever you tried to speak with him about the topic, he'd immediately steered the conversation into a different direction. Hence, he talked less to you in general. No deep conversations anymore, no love declarations - nothing.

The communication lacked, just like the physical touch. You'd get a kiss from time to time, yes, but nothing more. Barely cuddles, no long, intimate kisses and certainly no sex.

It hurt you. To the core - but the sad thing about it all was, that you actually hadn't a single reason to complain, because you weren't better. You gave him just as little as he gave you. It was a mutual thing - and at some point didn't go unnoticed anymore...

"Y/N."

"Y/N, hey."

Natasha's voice urged to your ears, but didn’t reach your brain. All you did was staring ahead; totally lost in thoughts. Only when you felt her touch on your shoulder was your best friend able to get through to you.

"Babes, your glass in flowing over." You snapped your head down at her words; eyes widening. "Shit, shit, shit." You hastily turned off the tap, while Nat helped you to dry the outside of the glass, so you could wipe your hands on a kitchen towel.

"Thanks, Nat." You took the glass, "I-I've been a bit lost in thoughts." and gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I saw that," the Widow pointed out and crossed her arms over her chest, before she leaned against the bar counter across from you.

"Okay, babes... We definitely need to talk." You swallowed; frowning. "Talk? W-Why?"

Nat scoffed. "Oh, please stop that, Y/N... You can't fool me. Perhaps the others around us, but not me. Something's off. I can tell. You've been so absent-minded lately. Always in thoughts and very quiet. Your smile doesn't reach your eyes either - and..." She gave you an intense look. "... the most worrying thing... You behave differently around Loki. More distant. Colder. Less touchy." Her eyebrows furrowed. "What's wrong between you two? And no, don't tell me it has just been a small fight, because this goes already on for at least two weeks. I saw it. So, don't even try to shit me, girl."

You swallowed again. That was clearly an order. You already knew that you weren’t going to lie yourself out of this situation, but... Did you even want that? Perhaps it was good to finally get this off your chest...

So, you nodded; nervously fumbling with your hands. "You... You are right. But, please can we talk about this in private?" Her eyes widened. "It is that bad?" You took a deep breath; nodding again."I'm afraid, yes."

Natasha nodded; rubbing your upper arm in a reassuring manner. "Let's head over to mine. Bruce is in the lab."

You followed your best friend to her apartment and only five minutes later sat down on her sofa; Nat following. "He didn't cheat on you, did he? Because if this fucker did, I'm going to cut off his ba-" "He didn't," you immediately interrupted her. "Loki never would. I know that. You know that." The red-haired beauty looked you straight in the eyes. "What did he do then?"

You swallowed. Memories of that night four weeks back started to flood your brain and causing you to hold back the tears.

"Remember that night where... Where we were at that bar? You, Wanda and I? And that incident with that strange man? You, taking me to the hospital afterwards?" The spy nodded; "Of course, yes." listening to you patiently. "I told you it was about the cut on the back of my head - and that was the truth, but... There was also something else..." You had to take a deep breath.

No one besides Loki had known about the pregnancy... Until now.

"He kneed me in the stomach - which wouldn't have been that much of a problem, but in my case it was, because I..." Your best friend's eyes widened. She was smart and therefore seemingly already had connected the dots. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Nat's eyes dropped to your stomach, before they lifted to face you again. "Are you...? Again?"

You nodded. "Pregnant, yes. I-I was pregnant again." Those words still hurt you more than you thought. You lowered your head; feeling a few silent tears running down your cheek.

"No... You... Oh my gosh..." Natasha gasped; immediately reached for your hand. "You're telling me that this wanker caused you to have a... miscarriage?" "Yes."

"Shit, I'm so sorry, babes. Gods, that's horrible. Come here." Your best friend hugged you tightly against her chest; just letting you cry for a while.

"And... Loki?" You snivelled. "Well, that's the point... I told him afterwards. We kinda had a fight and... He blamed me, I blamed him and ever since we didn't properly talk. We are drifting more and more apart. What had happened, split our relationship. We are losing each other - and it kills me." "Why didn't you talk with him then?" You swallowed; shaking your head.

"Because I feel like the rift between us is already too big. I won't make the jump." Nat squeezed your hand. "But you gotta try, babes. You love that man, right? He's your soulmate. The love of your life. Your baby daddy." You nodded. "Yes, I... I do. With all my heart." "See? You gotta try. But remember... It takes two to tango."

Her last words roamed through your head even several hours after the conversation. Perhaps it was really both your faults... You took a deep breath. You and Loki had to save this ship from sinking - at all costs. You didn't want to lose him. Never.

"Daddy?" Loki looked up at Ella. She was seated on the sofa backrest above him; legs dangling over his shoulders, as she was braiding several plaits into his long raven locks.

"Yes, princess?"

"You love mommy, right?"

The god's eyebrows slanted. "Of course, princess. Why are you asking?" The little girl shrugged her shoulders. "Because you and mommy don't have private time anymore."

Loki swallowed; realisation hitting him like a truck – completely out of the blue. "Well..." He cleared his throat. "Sometimes, we have little time for this, you know?" "Oh... Okay." Ella paused and Loki hoped that she'd just drop that topic know.

She did. Almost.

"Is mommy happy?" Ella dropped the next question, while small hands worked through another strand of her father's hair.

Again, Loki had to swallow - hard. "Y-Yes, I think so, why?" Yes, it was a lie. But he couldn't tell his eight-year-old daughter that you just lost her baby sibling, could he?

"But why is mommy crying so often then?"

Ella's next words hit Loki even harder. It felt like his heart was jumping over the edge of a cliff; free falling and shattering into a million pieces.

"W-What?" He croaked out; mouth falling agape.

"I see and hear mommy cry a lot."

Loki wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. You had shut him out - of course you did. After all he said why wouldn't you? You had every reason to banish him.

He blamed you; acted headless and stupid. He pushed you away when you needed him most. He fucked it up - real bad this time.

"I'm a fool..." Loki mumbled underneath his breath to himself. "I'm such a fool..."

"What did you say, daddy?" His daughter's innocent voice cut through the air once again. "Nothing, princess..." Loki answered; shaking his head. "I'm going to talk to mommy, okay?" Blue eyes looked up to meet his identical ones. "Will you make her feel better?" A breathless laugh escaped the gods lips; tears dripping down his chin. "Yes, princess... By the Norns, yes."

Loki watched you move through the kitchen from the hallway. He had just tucked the kids in and was finally able to talk with you. The conversation was long due.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer; feeling his heart hammering against his chest. He was so nervous. So afraid. What if you couldn't forgive him? What if he was going to lose you?

"Y/N?" The god called out your name softly. "Yes?" Your voice was cold. Distant.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"Darling, we... We need to talk... Please."

You froze in your movement; back towards your husband.

"Why? When I tried to talk to you a few weeks ago, you blocked me." Loki swallowed hard; Adam's apple bobbing within his throat. "I-I know, but... I see clearly now." He cautiously approached you. "I am so sorry, my love. I know now that I really fucked it up. I was- am such a fool. Norns, I don't know what has gotten into me. I... I just... saw red. Blaming you for the loss of our baby is the worst thing I ever did in my whole life." Tears pooled in his eyes, as you turned to face him.

"I pushed you away when you needed me the most. I should've been there for you. I should've supported you and help you through this, but no... I did the exact opposite." Loki paused for a moment; trying desperately to control his tears.

"I know what I did is unacceptable and I can't expect you to forgive me, but..." The god felt how his knees started to buckle. The weight of the possibility that you weren’t going to forgive him or even worse... Leave him, was hitting him full force. All his strength left his body and he fell down on his knees in front of you. "I-I'm begging you for forgiveness. Please, my love, please... I beg of you. Please don't leave me. I couldn't take it, I-" The lump in his throat cut off his sentence. All he could do was cry.

You witnessed the scenes in front of you; heart shattering.

"Loki..." Your soft, almost angelic voice urged to his ears. "Loki, I... I would never, ever - not in my wildest dreams leave you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. I never could, I... I love you."

Blue eyes looked up at you in disbelief. "W-What? You... You forgive m-me?" You nodded; feeling tears build up in your eyes as well. You couldn't help but lower your hands and cup your husband's tear stained cheeks; feeling his soft skin underneath your palm. "Of course, my love."

Loki blinked. "Why? I treated you so bad. Something I swore I'd never do and yet I did... I blamed you for... For something which was entirely my fault."

You frowned. "Your fault? Why would this be your fault?" You wiped away another tear with your thumb. "It isn't, Loki. When it's somebody's fault, it's mine. You were right. It is my fault. I should've been more careful." "No..." Loki shook his head quickly. "No, Y/N, stop that right now, please... Don't blame yourself. I should've protected you better... And the baby, I... I failed."

You feared that your heart was going to stop beating right then and there. It hurt. Seeing Loki like that destroyed you. "No, Loki..." You sobbed and sunk to the floor as well; immediately embracing him. "We both failed, but... It happened. We can't change the past. We have to live with it." You felt Loki nod against your shoulder. "I-I know."

You squeezed him tightly against your body, just like Loki frantically tried to hold on to you. Finally, you felt better again. Since weeks. You had missed the comforting touch of your husband. It was all you ever wanted and needed. Just like he did.

You almost physically felt how the rift between you got smaller and smaller with each passing minute.

You had found each other again.

Neither of you knew how much time had passed. An hour? Two? More? But it also didn't matter. Not right now, not here. You were still embracing each other; your hand gently running through his long curls. "We're going to make this, okay? Together. Like everything before." Another nod from Loki. He was overwhelmed by all the emotions running through his veins. "Yes."

And you did.

Sure, what had happened didn't fail to leave marks on both you and Loki; a deep scar carved into your heart and soul - but it also didn't fail to make your bond stronger. Even if it did not seem like it at first.

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @simping-for-marvel @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @ainsley30 @lovingchoices14 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980 @totsnotlynn

#the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader #loki angst #angst

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stoneagedevil · 11 months ago

Text

They’ll Understand (Somethin’ Stupid pt. 2) | Alastor x f!Reader

Part 1: “Somethin’ Stupid”

TW/CW: Angel being Angel. Anxiety and fear. Allusions to murder.

🎙️

“Wear this little number? He won’t be able to resist ya!” Angel was keeping you captive in his room, currently raiding his closet in search for something you could wear to impress Alastor, and according to Angel, once you “reeled him in with your pretty face” and “rockin’ body” you’d be able to “bed him.” You weren’t necessarily pleased with his wording, your face turning as red as your dreamboat’s hair.

“Angel, while I appreciate the gesture, I’m not comfortable wearing a leather bikini.” You deadpanned. Your anxiety was nipping at your heels, and you felt the urge to run. From what? Most likely confessing. To where? You didn’t know. But you hated how it was bringing the skittish deer out of you, as it was truly embarrassing. Alastor and you often confided in each other on how your demonic forms had caused you numerous headaches, and you felt comforted that someone you admired so much also experienced the same things you did, just as he felt that way about you. But you didn’t run from things, as they typically ran from you. You stood from Angel’s bed and started pacing again in an attempt to quell the instinct to run.

“Even if he reciprocated, what am I meant to do with love? What happens after?” You tilted your head at Angel, and he dropped another inappropriate article of clothing in shock at your question.

“You mean you’ve neva seen those cheesy romance flix before?” Angel’s eyes widened. This was the saddest thing ever. Identifying these feelings was one thing, but the fact that you didn’t know how to act on them was so depressing to Angel. Just how emotionally constipated were you? Hadn’t you felt love before? What kind of life had you led that you didn’t know the feeling at all?

“I can’t say I really watched much TV. Just the same few movies I really enjoyed over and over again when I wanted to hear another’s voice. Definitely not romance films.” You contemplated. No, you couldn’t recall ever watching romance films. You weren’t particularly keen on watching much TV, and you only went to the movie theatre when something truly interested you. However, you would occasionally put on a movie in the background while doing chores such as laundry, as it filled the empty space; if it wasn’t a movie, it was music, and it most often was.

“Well sit your ass down then, because class is in session.” After unceremoniously pushing your shoulders down to make you sit on his bed once more, Angel immediately went to where he kept his romance movies, pulling out a handful and explaining each one to you, before making you watch the best scenes from each.

Initially, you were quite apprehensive. Angel the Love Doctor’s license was certainly questionable, especially with this prescription of mushy movies. But eventually, you resonated with a lot of the characters, specifically the ones who were troubled with their feelings, like that one “Edward Cullen” guy.

From your understanding, love was one of the most powerful emotions a person could feel. It drove these characters to do insane things that furthered the plot of the movie; things you’ve done because of your feelings for Alastor: like hurting people you felt threatened by. Through these scenes, you learned about jealousy, of so-called “butterflies,” how people apart hurt inside.

But love made them…happy. Happy. Content in domestic bliss. You felt a pull in your chest, realizing you couldn’t ever remember feeling that way. You hadn’t had anyone around you interested in the same things you were. You were always the outlier. Always the one picked last for things. It didn’t particularly bother you at the time; back when you were alive. You didn’t have much to care about. But now, you felt you had something good to die for, which made it that much more beautiful to live.

Your brows were furrowed in concentration, and you were so focused on the screen and the interactions between the lovers that Angel sat you in front of, you failed to notice a stream of tears coming from your eyes.

Angel quickly took notice, pausing the TV immediately. “Woah woah woah, why’re you crying babe?” He plucked a tissue from the box beside his bed and dabbed underneath your eyes. Fuck. He didn’t think he’d be making you feel bad.

“Crying?” You brought a hand up to your cheek, surprised to find it damp. You marveled at the way the films made you feel, how imagining Alastor and yourself in their shoes made you feel, staring at the teardrops on your fingertips. “I- I feel like I understand. Like a want has just become a need. It’s truly wonderful. Like a breath of fresh air.” You smiled softly, moving to look into Angel’s eyes.

“Sheesh dollface, you had me worried.” Angel rolled his eyes playfully, internally relieved that he hadn’t just made an overlord cry, but most of all, that he hadn’t made a friend cry. “So now that you kinda get it, what’re ya gonna do?” You brainstormed for a second at the question, as it didn’t take long to figure out what would make Alastor the happiest.

“Alastor is a musical man.” You stated, instantly becoming more analytical and focused on the best way to get your feelings across to Alastor. “He’d never shy away from listening to a good song…” You trailed off.

“…so? Are you thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’?” Angel smiled smugly. He knew you sang to yourself during daily tasks, but you weren’t much of an extrovert, only making scenes when you had to establish your title as an overlord whenever demons seemed to forget. He imagined if you knew he could hear you singing in the shower next to his room, you’d be mortified. It was funny how you and Alastor could be so different, yet so alike, as Alastor was an extroverted entertainer.

“I’m thinking that in order to make him listen, and to make this special, I should sing for him. People always say the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but Alastor is quite adept at cooking. He wouldn’t need me for that.” You smiled to yourself, thinking back to times when Alastor would have you taste test a dish. Perhaps food was the way to your heart too, specifically his cooking.

—

Charlie was currently helping Alastor come up with sure fire ways to make you his officially (in his head you already were). Her notepad was filled with things her and Alastor knew you liked, hoping to put the information to good use.

Charlie had become wildly animated, smile stretched from cheek to rosy cheek. “You should tell her with a grand gesture! With fireworks and flowers and confetti and chocolates and singing and-“ Alastor raised a hand to stop her barrage of outlandish ideas.

“Charlie, I’m afraid that’s a bit too much.” Alastor stubbed out her sparkling ideas like a cigarette. While he was known to be grand in his executions (literal executions as well), he wanted this to be more personal. More intimate. Part of it was that he was incredibly shy about his romantic feelings for you, though he’d never let on to it. You were an intimidating woman, it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you, so he preferred to do this in private where no one could see his facial expressions. In addition to that, he knew how introverted you were in comparison to him; an incredibly private person.

“Okay, what about dinner at a super fancy restaurant? And flowers. You have to give her flowers.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” He summoned a rose, which had begun to rapidly wilt and die soon after the stem had touched his fingertips. It irked him. Something he previously didn’t have a problem with now stood in between him and your heart.

“Oh…” Charlie’s head hit the table. How was she supposed to help Hell’s population problem if she couldn’t even help Alastor express his romantic feelings for you? This was so hard.

“Fret not my dear, your dinner idea was exceptional! However, I think I should be the one to make the dishes.” A candlelit dinner with your favorite food being brought to you by him? You’d already expressed how much you enjoyed his cooking every time he held a spoonful of food up to your face. Feeding you and hearing you sing his praises on another culinary success made him feel as though he were floating. With you by his side, he was sure he wouldn’t have to walk anywhere ever again.

“That’s a great idea! I bet that would really impress her! And I can be the one to put the flowers on the table so they don’t wilt!” She clasped her face in between her hands, almost as if she was trying to stop her smile from getting any wider.

Immediately after establishing their plans, Alastor and his wing-woman Charlie had begun to research the best recipes pertaining to your tastes.

This had to be absolutely perfect, Alastor thought.

—

Music. It was what you and Alastor had bonded most over. He showed you Jazz’s greatest artists, the pioneers of brassy sounds, and you adored his passion in the genre. You listened to what you liked, as simple as that sounds. Your tastes often surpassed any one genre, and you found yourself dipping your hooves into anything; even just to give it a chance.

If music had brought you so close to Alastor, surely it would bring you even closer. Once you left Angel’s room, you dove into your collections of vinyl and CDs you acquired over your time in Hell. The greatest hits pertaining to love flooded your room, and you listened intently to the lyrics. Looking down at the notepad in front of you, you began to write about the way Alastor made you feel. This had to be absolutely perfect, you thought.

—

A couple days passed, and as Alastor opened the door to his hotel room to step out and retrieve the suit he was having pressed, a note taped onto it caught his ruby sight. With an eyebrow raised, he skeptically plucked the note from his door and began to read it.

“Dearest Alastor,

I hope you’ll find the time to come to the ballroom located in the hotel at 6pm. I’ve made a gift for you, and I’m hoping you’ll accept.

From,

Y/N”

You sat writing many iterations of that damned letter. Was “With love” too much? “Forever yours” most certainly was, no matter how true it was. “Sincerely” was stupid. Maybe you should just keep it simple.

“From, Y/N.” Simple. Simply stupid. But you went with it anyway.

Alastor’s heart leaped up to his throat, he was sure if he opened his mouth, it would jump out and find its way towards you. He retreated back into his room, opening one of the drawers he dedicated to you. It was filled with notes containing songs you’ve written down for him, and songs he wrote down that you recommended verbally. The wilted rose he wished so desperately to give to you that was used as a demonstration to Charlie on why he couldn’t. Receipts from outings you two accompanied each other on, and his ticket from your trip to the movie theatre that was playing one of your favorite movies at the time. He truly tried his best to pay attention to the silver screen, but he mostly found himself enamored with the way the light from the screen lit up your face.

He gently placed his newest treasure in the drawer, excited to see what you had in store for the night. Though, on the other hand, he was a bit nervous and disappointed. He’d planned on picking up all of the ingredients for a dish that would knock your socks off, in addition to picking up his pressed suit. If you had something to give to him, he wouldn’t have time to cook this night. His heart and shadow were getting antsy, the latter outwardly showing his deepest desires which he adamantly detested. He’d catch his shadow practically making heart eyes at you, and Alastor found himself wishing he would wave his hands at it to make it diminish like cigarette smoke in the air.

No matter! Perhaps after whatever you had planned, he’d ask you to a dinner cooked and presented by him. Closing the drawer, he made his way out to the dry cleaners to ensure he wouldn’t forget his suit when the time came to woo you. However, what he did forget, was letting Charlie know of this change of plans, who had already helped in setting up a table for two with red roses and unlit candles in a candelabra sitting in the center; all set up in the very room you wished to deliver your gift.

—

You had spent quite some time writing your song dedicated to Alastor, and soon after its completion, you enlisted the help of your souls-turned-shadows to play instruments and do background vocals. There was no way in Hell you’d allow a demon to aid in this. You rehearsed a few times before deeming it a perfect performance that you were willing to give to Alastor. The time was now a little after 4, and you decided to get ready.

Your hair was curled, makeup to your liking, and you wore a black tea-length dress with an abundance of white tulle underneath the skirt to make it flare out more. The sweetheart neckline sported a small, white, satin bow in the center. You slipped on a shiny pair of black kitten heels, opting for more of a comfortable dress shoe - your nerves were sure to make you incredibly uncomfortable, so you attempted to counteract that a bit by making your physical self as comfortable yet stylish as it could be. As a finishing touch, you clasped a string of pearls around your neck. They were a gift from Alastor when he found out that it was your birthday. You told him you didn’t need anything, and that birthdays sort of lost their meanings when you lived for so long in Hell, but he wouldn’t hear any of it, adamantly telling you that your birth was something to be celebrated. If you had figured out your feelings for him by then, you’re sure you would have kissed him.

You turned to look into the mirror wondering if Alastor would think you looked nice. Nervously, you made your way to Angel’s room beside yours. Hesitantly you knocked, opening the door when a muffled “come in” prompted you to.

“What’s up toots? Hey! Don’t you clean up nice!” He exclaimed, getting up from his bed and taking your hand to spin you around, dress flaring out around you as you spun.

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or too little?” You looked into Angel’s mirror, your hands worrying over any perceived imperfection. Angel once more grabbed your hands to stop them from flying around.

“Girl, you look great, and I know he’ll think so too.” He quelled your nerves. Then you did something out of character, you hugged him. Initially taken aback, Angel’s arms tightened around you.

“Thank you Angel.”

—

Alastor arrived at 6 on the dot. Not always punctual, never late, and always on time. Although he did want to arrive at the ballroom earlier, he didn’t want to seem too eager, even though he most certainly was. His excitement rolled off of him in waves, making the demons he met along the way to pick up his suit even more uneasy than usual.

When he walked through the grand doors, he saw his little setup that he and Charlie planned to set up for the dinner date. He contemplated hiding the table, conjuring a portal to a shadow dimension and pushing the evidence of his feelings for you into the dark abyss, but before he could act on this, he heard the clicking of heels making their way across the stage portion of the ballroom.

You were a vision, and he considered pinching himself as he thought he was looking at an angel. He hadn’t mistakenly enrolled in the redemption program, did something good, and then made his way upstairs, did he? You stood in front of a silver microphone, your hands shakily grasping it to keep yourself steady. Alastor clumsily grasped the back of one of the chairs meant for the two of you, slowly lowering himself into the seat and never taking his eyes off of your form.

“My gift is a song I’ve written with you in mind.” You said simply, and although you outwardly looked as confident as you always did, internally you were sure you were dying a second time.

The sounds of a glockenspiel sounded throughout the room signifying the beginning of the song, followed by background vocals singing “Anyone.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and stepping closer to the mic before beginning your song.

“You can blame me,

Try to shame me,

And still I'll care for you,

You can run around,

Even put me down,

Still I'll be there for you,”

You knew he’d never do these things to you, but you wanted to tell him that no matter the hardships, you’d always be there for him. Alastor’s heart was beating faster than it ever had before, was this a love song? No…

“The world

May think I'm foolish,

They can't see you,

Like I can,

Oh but anyone,

Who knows what love is,

Will understand”

It’s amusing to think that not too long ago, you were someone who didn’t understand. But here you are now, singing that you couldn’t care less about what others would think if they knew the depths of your feelings for Alastor.

Speaking of the devil, these blasted eyes of his kept fogging up, making it difficult to see you. Nobody has ever done this sort of thing for him, and he was absolutely enamored with your voice and the lyrics you wrote about him. He gripped the chair that he was sitting in, afraid he’d float away and miss the rest of your carefully crafted performance. He’d never seen you with so much emotion on your face, these visual feelings you possessed highlighted by pink and red lights. He would’ve been grateful for the color choice, as it hid his bright red face, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, much less even notice the effect you had on him. All he could see and hear was you, and he wanted it to be that way forever.

“I just feel so sorry,

For the ones,

Who pity me,

'Cause they just don't know,

Oh they don't know what happiness and love can be,”

You opened your eyes to stare into Alastor’s as you delivered the next few lines.

“I know,

I know to ever let you go,

It's more,

Than I,

Could ever stand,

Oh but anyone,

Who knows what love is,

Will understand”

You thought about how Angel had helped you understand in his own strange way, and this verse was almost like a thank you note to him. The music began to lull as you sang the last few lines.

“Oh they'll understand,

If they try love they'll understand,

Oh try to understand”

The last line was for Alastor, and you almost prayed he would try and understand your feelings for him, and hopefully realize any feelings he had for you.

The song had finally finished, and if Alastor had a time machine he’d travel three minutes into the past in order to hear you sing again. Then he’d do it over and over and over again. Making your way down from the stage, Alastor shot up from his seat. He’d rehearsed how he’d proclaim his undying love for you, but now that you’d done it first, he was scrambling.

He panicked. He actually panicked. He ripped the red roses from the vase sat on table and held them out to you, the both of you watching in shock (Alastor mostly in horror) as the roses had the life sucked out from their stems and the vase tipped over causing water to spill onto the floor between you both. His smile tightened, eyes snapping shut as he debated teleporting far, far away from here; never to return. But his jumbled and anxiety ridden thoughts were cut short when he felt soft hands gently pry open his larger ones, taking the flowers. It was you, and you were smiling the biggest smile he’d ever seen you make, and it was directed at him.

You lifted the dead roses to your face and inhaled the remnants of their floral scent, and Alastor’s heart melted at the gesture.

“Your song was wonderful my dear. May I ask for an encore?” He said, shyly. Your cheeks turned rosy, and you bashfully looked away.

“You didn’t think it was ridiculous?” You asked hopefully, tightly clutching your dead bouquet.

“Ridiculous? It was nothing of the sort! For a moment I thought I was in Heaven and I was most-“

You tugged him down by the collar of his shirt and pressed an unsure kiss to his lips. His ears stood straight up, tail secretly wagging behind him, just as yours did. He melted into the affectionate gesture, moving his claws to cradle your neck and the small of your back in order to bring you closer. Pulling away, you lovingly gazed into each other's eyes.

“Y/N, your performance was absolutely astounding. I’d trade every vinyl in my collection for just a second more.” And that was the truth. He was sure no song would ever compare to the masterpiece you crafted for him. Because of him.

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to record it and have it pressed just for you. You wouldn’t happen to know a guy with recording equipment, would you?” You flirted.

“My darling, of course I do! He’s quite the catch too, though using the equipment comes with a price.” He smiled smugly, cheeks just as red as yours.

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“You’ll have to allow him to call you his girl, it’s just the rules my darling.” Internally, he was nervous you’d reject him. Why? You just wrote, composed, and performed an entire song for him. But it was you. Anyone would be lucky to have you, and he couldn’t believe quite yet that you returned the feelings he’d been trying to grapple with for some time.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a kiss mark (one he’d refuse to wipe off for some time). “I’d love nothing more.”

—

Later that night, Alastor and you had retired to your room. You sat at the end of your couch, his head resting in your lap as you told each other stories about what you had stupidly done in the name of your unknown love for each other.

“It’s funny, that table was in the ballroom because I planned on taking you on a dinner date tonight. Charlie lent a hand in planning it.” Alastor revealed.

You tilted your head at the fact that Alastor too had a “wingman” as Angel had put it. “Charlie? How funny, Angel helped me with some things too. He actually helped me realize my feelings for you.”

“Charlie helped me the same way. She said that you obviously fancied me.” He had a smug smile on his face, looking for your reaction.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline at the allegation. “What? How? Was I truly that obvious?”

“Yes, well, a little birdy told me about a certain carpet incident with Mimzy, my darling.” That was his favorite story. He’d often imagine you glaring angrily at a clueless Mimzy, lifting a manicured claw and causing the poor blonde’s face to harshly meet the floor.

You turned your nose up indignantly. “Incident? I was merely helping her get a better look at the carpet she continuously complimented you on picking out.” You huffed, crossing your arms. Alastor laughed at your adorable behavior, loving the jealousy that came off you in waves at the mention of Mimzy.

“Don’t worry my love, no other woman could compare to you. Anyone who knows what love is could see I only have eyes for you.”

—♥️—

I hoped you all enjoyed that, and I really appreciate the love you all gave to part 1!

Taglist: @alastruist @martinys-world @ustulia

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #fanfic #x reader #hazbin fandom #hazbin fanfic #alastor fanfiction #Spotify

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