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novaursa · 3 months ago

Note

I have way to many idea so sorry for everything I’m going to send you 👉🏼👈🏼

Aemond x Niece (maybe a Nyra x daemon before her wedding!?)

He’s obsessed with her, she represents everything he want, she’s a perfect Targaryen white hair, purple eyes, huge dragon vermithor or cannibal?

But she’s engaged to Jace and he hate the fact that she is “given” to a bastard. So he tried by all things to make her his, he wish so hard to be found with her in a bad position that they obliged them to get married.

He make sure that Larys Steong see them, he even say to the maester to give her moon tee or medicinal herb for morning sickness ?! Otto find that about the maester and decided to marry them ( daemon and nyra are not ok they say It not real) and aemond took that personally and decided that they will have a child right now 🫣

The Dragon's Mark

- Summary: When Aemond found out about your betrothal to Jacaerys, he knew how all seven hells could not hold him back from taking what was rightfully his.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: Reader is the firstborn child of Rhaenyra. She had a reader with Daemon before she involved herself with Harwin Strong. Daemon legitimized the reader. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with a Maester to make it more believable. I hope you don't mind.

Aemond sat across from his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and his grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, in the great hall of the Red Keep. The torchlight cast shadows over their faces, making their expressions harder to read, not that Aemond was paying much attention. Their voices drifted to him as if through a thick fog, muffled and distant. He stared at the tapestry on the wall opposite, its intricate designs of dragons entwined in battle barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the image of you.

You, to him, were the embodiment of Valyrian perfection, a true daughter of Old Valyria. Your silver hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like molten silver, and your violet eyes held the depth of the ancient Targaryen bloodline. You are more than a princess; you are power personified, a dragonrider of Vermithor, the mighty bronze beast who had bonded with you when you were but a girl. Aemond could still remember the first time he had seen you astride Vermithor, your small form commanding the great dragon with ease, your expression fierce and unyielding.

Now, you are a woman grown, and in Aemond's eyes, you are perfect. You are the one he deserves, a match that would not only strengthen the bloodline but would also solidify his place in their shared history. He could see it so clearly in his mind: you by his side, the two of you ruling as a power unmatched, with dragons and fire at your command.

The thought of you set a slow burn within him, a mix of admiration and desire. He had always been captivated by your strength, your beauty, and the fire in your spirit that matched his own. You are everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. A true Targaryen, unmarred by the weaknesses of others. Aemond clenched his jaw, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.

His attention snapped back to the present as his mother's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear.

"...Rhaenyra has decided to marry her daughter to Jacaerys," Alicent said, her tone carefully neutral, but there was a hint of distaste in her eyes.

Aemond's world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over him like a wave. His blood ran cold as the realization settled in. Rhaenyra intended to wed her daughter, you, the one Aemond desired above all others, to that bastard Jacaerys. His hands curled into fists on the table, the knuckles white as the force of his anger rose within him, threatening to consume him whole.

"A match to solidify her claim, no doubt," Otto added, his voice dry and calculated as always. "She seeks to ensure her line continues to hold power, binding her daughter to her eldest son."

Aemond could barely hear them now over the roaring in his ears. The thought of you, bound to Jacaerys, of the union of your bloodlines through a marriage that had nothing to do with honor or strength but everything to do with Rhaenyra's desperate attempt to secure her position—it was unbearable.

His mind raced with images of Jacaerys, the boy who had always stood in his way, who had always been favored despite the question of his parentage, despite his weaknesses. And now, to think that he would have you, the woman Aemond had longed for, the woman who should have been his—!

"Aemond." Alicent's voice broke through his fury, pulling his gaze to her. She looked at him with concern, as if sensing the turmoil within him. "What are you thinking?"

Aemond blinked, his breath coming in sharp, controlled breaths as he forced himself to calm. He could not reveal the depth of his feelings here, not now. He met his mother's gaze, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Nothing, mother," he said, his voice low and measured. "Only that Rhaenyra's choices will bring about her own downfall."

Alicent frowned slightly, but before she could press further, Otto interjected, his eyes narrowing as he studied his grandson. "This marriage will complicate things, Aemond. We must be cautious in how we respond. Rhaenyra seeks to bind the loyalty of her supporters through this match."

Aemond nodded stiffly, though his thoughts were still far from the politics of it all. He would not let this happen. He would not allow Jacaerys to take what should be his.

"Perhaps," Aemond began slowly, "we should consider our own alliances more carefully. There are other ways to weaken Rhaenyra's position."

Otto raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in Aemond's tone. "What do you suggest?"

Aemond met his grandsire's gaze, a plan already forming in his mind, a way to ensure that you would not be lost to him, that Jacaerys would not win. His lips curled into a small, cold smile.

"There are always ways to turn the tide," he said softly. "We need only find the right pressure points."

Alicent looked between them, her unease growing, but Aemond paid her no mind. His thoughts were solely on you, on the woman who had unknowingly claimed his heart. He would have you, no matter the cost. You will be his, and nothing, not even Rhaenyra’s schemes, would stand in his way.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as you sat at your vanity, the brush gliding through your long, silver hair. Each stroke was methodical, a ritual you found soothing as the day's events faded into the quiet of the evening. You took a deep breath, savoring the calm, but beneath the surface, your thoughts were a swirling current of unspoken feelings, thoughts that often turned to him—Aemond.

The quiet attraction you felt for him had always been there, lurking in the periphery of your mind, but never voiced, never acted upon. There was something in the way he carried himself, the intensity of his gaze, that made your heart quicken whenever he was near. Yet, the distance between you had always remained, unbridgeable, or so you had thought.

You placed the brush down, your hair now smooth and shining in the firelight, ready to retire for the night. But just as you were about to stand, a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling you from your reverie. You frowned, surprised by the interruption at this hour. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and there he was, Aemond, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice betraying a hint of the surprise you felt.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His presence filled the space, commanding yet silent, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eye, that piercing violet eye, locked onto yours, and you felt your breath catch. There was something different about him tonight, an intensity that set your heart racing.

"I... wasn't expecting you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed to see you," he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes.

You swallowed, your mind racing as he reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eye, a hunger, a longing that mirrored the unspoken desires you had kept locked away for so long.

"I've thought about you," you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But I never—"

He silenced you with a look, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up, his gaze darkening. "No more words," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fervor that took your breath away.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a rush of heat and need that left you dizzy. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the fire, and the beating of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourself. But before you could speak, before you could mention the name that had been on your mind earlier, he shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear his name tonight."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken plea, and let the thought of Jacaerys fade away, replaced by the man before you, the man who had captured your heart without either of you realizing it.

Aemond's hands moved to the ties of your gown, his fingers deftly undoing the knots, and you felt your pulse quicken as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of you, bared before him. There was a reverence in his eyes, a deep appreciation that made your cheeks flush with heat.

He shed his own tunic, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body, the scars that marked him only adding to the allure. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was all so surreal, so perfect, that you almost feared it was a dream.

Aemond's hands were gentle as he led you to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart ache. He moved over you, his gaze softening as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that felt both new and familiar, as if you were made to fit together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eye searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin just beneath his patch. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want this, Aemond. I want you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he entered you slowly, the sensation both sharp and sweet, a mingling of pleasure and pain as he took your maidenhead. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but the discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completeness, as he buried himself deep within you.

Aemond stilled for a moment, his breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your hair spread out like a silver halo on the pillow, your eyes wide with trust and desire. The knowledge that you were his, that you had given yourself to him, filled him with a satisfaction that went beyond mere conquest. It was everything he had ever imagined, and more.

Tomorrow, he knew, the servants who served Larys Strong would change the sheets, and the evidence of your union would be seen by those who needed to know. But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the way you felt beneath him, the way your body responded to his.

You urged him to move, your hips shifting beneath him, and he obliged, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The pleasure built between you, a slow burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every kiss, until it was all-consuming.

Aemond was lost in the sensation, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as you both neared the edge.

As you reached the pinnacle, your release washing over you in a wave of pleasure, he buried his face in your neck, his voice rough with emotion as he urged you to call his name, to let the world know who you belonged to. "Say my name," he breathed, his words a plea and a command all at once.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your release. "Aemond, please..."

And then he was there, the last threads of his control snapping as he spilled himself inside you, his own release ripping through him with a force that left him trembling. Your name was on his lips, a whispered prayer, a declaration of everything he felt, everything he could never put into words.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the lingering echoes of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. Aemond held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the heights of your passion.

In that moment, there were no words, no need for them. Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever felt, was conveyed in the way you held each other, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, so naturally.

As you drifted into sleep, Aemond's arms wrapped around you, you knew that everything had changed, and there was no going back.

The morning arrived as Aemond moved with purposeful strides. His mind was sharp, focused, each step a calculated part of the plan he had set into motion. The events of the previous night played over in his mind, not with regret, but with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had intended.

He turned a corner and spotted Grand Maester Mellos in the distance, the elderly man’s stooped figure moving slowly down the hall. Aemond quickened his pace, his boots echoing against the stone floor, and within moments, he was at the Maester’s side.

“Grand Maester Mellos,” Aemond greeted, his voice measured and calm, though there was an undercurrent of urgency that could not be missed.

The Maester looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of the prince. “Prince Aemond,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “How may I assist you this morning?”

Aemond’s expression was inscrutable as he spoke, his voice low, as if to ensure their conversation remained private. “I require your expertise, Maester. There is a matter concerning Princess Y/N—my niece—that needs your immediate attention.”

Mellos frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, Your Grace. What seems to be the issue? Is Princess Y/N unwell?”

Aemond shook his head, his gaze intense as he met the Maester’s eyes. “No, she is not unwell. However, I wish for her to be examined… to ensure that she has not been harmed.”

Mellos’ confusion deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “Harmed, Your Grace? I do not follow. What examination, exactly, do you require?”

Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “Last night, she and I... shared an intimate moment. I want to ensure that she was not hurt during our union, that she was not harmed in any way.”

The Maester’s face went pale, the full implication of Aemond’s words sinking in. His eyes widened slightly, and he took an involuntary step back, his hand trembling as he clutched the folds of his robes.

“Your Grace…” Mellos began, his voice shaky as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed to him. “You… you wish for me to confirm that Princess Y/N was… that she…?”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the Maester, his expression unwavering. “Yes,” he said simply, allowing the full weight of his words to settle between them. “I want you to ensure that she was not harmed. And if any trace of injury is found, I want you to inform me immediately.”

Mellos looked as though he might faint, the color draining from his face entirely. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Aemond was asking, and the consequences that would follow. The bloodied sheets, the confirmation from the Grand Maester—these were not just symbols of a consummated union; they were a declaration of intent, a claim that could not be ignored by either Otto Hightower or Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“I… I understand, Your Grace,” Mellos stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But, Prince Aemond, surely you realize that such news… it will reach the ears of the Queen, and Prince Daemon…”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “That is precisely what I intend, Maester. The sheets will speak for themselves, and your examination will confirm what is already known. My niece is now mine, and any plans to wed her to Jacaerys must be reconsidered.”

Mellos swallowed hard, the implications of Aemond’s words weighing heavily on him. The Prince’s plan was clear now, as was the role he had unwittingly been drawn into. The Maester nodded slowly, realizing that there was no turning back from what had been set in motion.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mellos finally said, his voice hoarse. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Aemond inclined his head, satisfied that his instructions would be carried out. He could see the fear in the Maester’s eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he turned to leave. But that fear was necessary, a tool to ensure that the plan would proceed without a hitch.

“Thank you, Grand Maester,” Aemond said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost discretion.”

Mellos nodded quickly, his face still ashen as he hurried away, his steps faltering as though the weight of what he now carried was too much to bear.

Aemond watched him go, a sense of triumph settling over him. The seeds had been sown, and soon enough, they would bear the fruit he desired. His grandsire would be forced to recognize the union, and Rhaenyra would have no choice but to break the engagement to Jacaerys. There would be no way to deny him now.

As he turned and walked back down the corridor, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Everything was falling into place, just as he had envisioned. And as for the flushed and worried Grand Maester, he was merely the first to feel the ripple effects of the plan Aemond had so carefully crafted. Soon, everyone would understand that you belonged to him, and no one—not Jacaerys, not Rhaenyra, not even Daemon—could take you away from him now.

Aemond entered the chamber, summoned by his grandsire. The usual sense of foreboding that accompanied meetings in the Tower of the Hand was magnified tenfold by the figures waiting inside. Otto Hightower stood near the center of the room, his expression grave, while beside him stood Rhaenyra, her face a mask of barely concealed fury. But it was Daemon, pacing like a caged beast, whose presence dominated the space, his anger felt in the air.

Aemond, however, was unperturbed. He walked with measured steps, his posture erect, his face a picture of calm satisfaction. His eye met Daemon’s, and he could see the rage simmering there, a wildfire barely restrained. Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, knowing full well that it would only infuriate Daemon further.

“You summoned me, grandsire?” Aemond’s voice was even, respectful, but with an edge of smugness that did not go unnoticed.

Otto cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between the furious Targaryens and his grandson. “Aemond, it has come to my attention—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It has come to my attention, through certain… whispers, that Grand Maester Orwyle was called upon this morning to examine Princess Y/N. An examination that has confirmed… certain truths.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides, her violet eyes blazing with a fury that matched the fire of the dragons themselves. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you lay a hand on her!”

Before Aemond could respond, Daemon stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister. His face was a mask of barely restrained violence, and for a moment, it seemed he might strike Aemond down where he stood.

“Daemon,” Otto warned, his voice firm, though there was a thread of unease beneath it. “Violence will solve nothing here.”

“Violence is all I see fit to deal with this insolent whelp!” Daemon barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “He dares to defile my daughter, and you expect me to stand idly by?”

Aemond, unflinching, met Daemon’s gaze head-on, his own expression hardening. “I have done what was necessary, uncle,” he said coolly. “She is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaenyra’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cold. “Her betrothal to Jacaerys has been agreed upon for years. You cannot simply cast that aside as if it means nothing.”

Otto interjected, his voice measured, though the urgency was clear. “In light of these recent events, the betrothal to Prince Jacaerys must be reconsidered. It is in the best interest of both houses that Princess Y/N and Prince Aemond are wed, to avoid any… further complications.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with a deadly light as he turned on Otto. “You would sell my daughter to this boy after what he has done? You forget yourself, Hightower. She will not be tangled into your schemes!”

Aemond stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This is not a matter of scheming, uncle. It is done. She is mine now, and there is nothing that can undo it. You cannot deny what has been consummated.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Aemond’s words, as blunt and provocative as they were, held the weight of truth, and that was what infuriated Daemon most of all.

“The marriage must happen,” Otto pressed, sensing the shift in the room. “And it should happen soon, before word spreads and this matter becomes a scandal that neither house can afford.”

Aemond did not miss the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. “Indeed,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with a satisfaction that only inflamed Daemon’s ire further. “The ceremony should be conducted in the traditions of old Valyria, where fire and blood bind us as one. And it should be done with haste.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before delivering the final blow. “For I hope that soon, another dragon will be born of our union.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen, her fury giving way to something colder, more calculating. Daemon, however, looked ready to strike again, his entire body tensed with the desire to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Aemond’s face.

But Aemond stood tall, his gaze steady, unflinching in the face of Daemon’s rage. He knew he had won. The plan had worked flawlessly. The whispers from Larys Strong, the bloodied sheets, the Maester’s examination—all had been carefully orchestrated to force this very outcome.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive, until finally, it was Rhaenyra who spoke, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “If this is to be done,” she said, “it will be done according to our customs, and with the respect due to our house. But know this, Aemond—should you ever bring harm to my daughter, not even your dragon will save you from my wrath.”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, accepting her warning with the same unyielding calm he had maintained throughout. “As you wish, sister. I will see to it that Y/N is treated with the honor she deserves.”

Daemon said nothing, but the look he leveled at Aemond spoke volumes. It was a promise, a vow that if Aemond ever crossed a line, there would be a reckoning, and it would be brutal.

But for now, Aemond had what he wanted. He had claimed you, and soon, the two of you will be bound in marriage. The thought of it sent a thrill of triumph through him, and though he kept his expression carefully neutral, inside, he reveled in his victory.

Otto, sensing that the matter was settled, nodded gravely. “Then it is decided. The preparations will begin at once.”

Without another word, Aemond turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a flushed, furious Daemon and a conflicted Rhaenyra. He knew that the days ahead would be tense, that there would be fallout from his actions, but none of it mattered now. You were his, and soon the world would see it, would understand that he was not to be trifled with.

And as he walked away, his thoughts were already on the future, on the life he would build with you, a future forged in fire and blood, just as the old ways dictated.

#house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye

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victoria-grimesss · 1 year ago

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2 ideas!

One, I loved your soap w secretary girlfriend! What about something similar for ghost and konig?

Two, what about a COD fic where the lights go out and you are stuck in the dark together? 😘 any character you want!

masterlist

->Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader & König x Fem!Reader

->Words: 0.8k

->A/N: MDNI! These are so fun to write!!! Also adding that wonderful 'idea of the stuck in the dark' fic to the list ;)

Sure, Ghost and König are both big strong military men. They're intimidating and stoic. Tall and broad but they both love their secretary girlfriend differently.

Ghost:

He's a brute. Large and broad and dark. How you became accustomed to him was more comical than anything. One complaint report landed on your desk for him to pick up, which he never did. His training methods were.. less than desirable.. which you can imagine just looking at him and how he just stands and stares, barking commands.

34 total complaint reports from the newest training group landed on your desk, making a rather annoying pile. None of the complaints would ever be resolved, Ghost's training method is foolproof. So, you walked down the hallway, papers in hand and a scowl on your face straight to that man. You slam the door open to the training yard your heels sounding extra loud. Your stocking covered legs and short skirt is the view of the century out here.

"Lieutenant Riley, your complaint papers have occupied an annoyingly large space on my desk. Please be better about picking them up from now on." You shoved the papers into his chest and storm away. Simon was putty in your hand from then on.

He would stand arms crossed in your doorway as you helped the others. Waiting patiently, his stare dark and unwavering.

He loves to watch you work. Your soft hands filing the papers expertly you know every little place where everything goes. He sees how the guy you're helping out checks out your ass as you stand. He shoulder checks him on his way out and then he stands at the front and center of your desk, and you look up through your lashes at him.

"Can I help you Simon?" You ask him in a sultry voice as you reapply your lipstick.

"Yea. I can think of a couple things."

Your panties are around one ankle, your heels barely hanging on to your feet as your legs are wrapped around his hips and he's ruthless with his thrusts. You're on lunch and he took you to the file room, you're on a dusty old desk that's only used for storage. All the contents thrown to the ground as Simon couldn't wait any longer to be inside you.

"Fuck, you love this yea? Fuckin you right here panties round your ankle you can hardly focus on me."

He's right your head has been long spinning and your eyes struggle to stay focused. He drives himself into your wet heat so hard and rough your hair has become a half up half down mess in the process.

"Grippin me so fuckin tight love, maybe I start coming down every day, feed you my cock on your break. Would you like that, look at me when I'm talking to you."

Simon frequently rips your stockings when he's gripping your thighs, especially when he cums.

"Fuckin hell love you're a fucking mess dripping on me like this, going to cum deep inside you then you'll go back and sit all pretty at your desk with me dripping out of you. You want that love? Yea you do."

Simon is a ruthless lover, he can be sweet too. When he's not confined by a 30-minute lunch break window of course.

König:

König is top dog, the big guy on the ground. So you see him often. You'll keep track of his appointments and meetings, bring him food and coffee when he works late nights and eventually, he invites you to share a meal with him. After that he keeps calling you back to his office.

König is an older guy and his knees aren't all that good honey so be a doll and help him out. You'll get down on yours and wrap those pretty lipstick coated lips around him and his mouth is watering just watching you take as much as you can.

He's found that he has a certain fixation for the lipstick you wear and sometimes requests you wear certain colors for him when you go down on him. He loves the way it leaves rings around his cock and he'll stroke your hair as he speaks to you.

"Taking me so well mein liebling, you see that last ring of lipstick you left on me? Let's try to get even lower this time, you're a good girl I believe in you."

You'll take as much as you can, and when he finally trains his little secretary to take all of him he cums as soon as your lips meet the base of him leaving red lip marks on his skin.

And when he's feeling especially needy he'll call you into his office and have you straddle him. He'll kiss your neck as he takes off your heels, he knows how expensive they are, I mean he did buy them for you, so he undoes the little straps with care and sets them on the floor.

He'll caress you with his big hands and have you ride his thigh hiking your skirt up your hips so he can rest his hands behind his head and watch you moan and sob on top of him.

"You look so beautiful like this mein liebling, you're leaving quite the wet spot on me this time. How many times should I make you cum like this before I let you ride me."

He's cruel when he wants to be but it's all in good fun. He's spoil you afterwards.

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shuenkio · 7 months ago

Text

Revenge lesson - ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Cw: Smut, rough sex, curse, nsfw.

Synopsis: Co-workers rival, he's mad at you and decides to teach you a lesson.

You're responsible for what you read (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

{Heeseung} The Co-Worker rivals, who like to compete with each other in order to win the employee of the month title, compete so strongly that the boss was forced to include both of them on the list together.

Late at night at the company, you work overtime as per usual, even completing the paperwork for the next day. Same goes for Heeseung, who also likes to work overtime to earn his keep with the CEO. Unexpectedly, after finishing his work, he walks to your desk, his daily routine after work being to pester and annoy you. The conversation was harsh, and full of insults, today he's gone too far.

"Now i know why you don't have a girlfriend yet because you're a fucking manipulate, two face person who like take advantage of the other, with all those things of you, nobody would want to fuck with you, Mr LEE!" You fire back, standing up from your seat and shooting him a furious gaze, death glaring at him and waiting for his response.

Heeseung's face turns red as his veins are pumping, visible on his forehead. He scoffed forcefully and slammed his bag down to the ground, dropping it in an aggressive manner.

"Nobody fuck with me? Really? Ya!-if nobody will then it'd be you, now I'm gonna teach you a lesson, getting on my nerves, deserve a consequence baby" He let his tongue slide through, poking inside his mouth,With a swift motion, he unlatched his belt and lifts it off his waist. The belt slides smoothly off his body without any effort on his part, falling down to his side where it hangs limply by his leg.

"W-what are you doing!" You nervously ask, You feel your eyes go white, and your entire body starts to shiver with fear. The hell he was about to do?!!

"To fuck you of course, just like you said nobody wanna fuck with me so I'm gonna make you take this place instead" He replies seductively and looks at you like a hungry beast. His scary aura makes you more frightened and excited at the same time. You're shivering and fearful. find yourself too stunned to move, your life was about to flash before your eyes here.

He casually unzipped his pants, His red underwear peeked through the opening, hinting at his member soon to be revealed.

With a playful smirk on his face, he slowly pulled down his boxers just enough to expose a portion of his veiny hard cock, a small droplet of precum glistened at its tip. causing you to gasps.

"Tonight will decide whether we continue as enemies or as lovers, M/N" 🫦

As Heeseung noticed your hesitation, he quickly seized control of the situation. Grabbing onto your tie, he pulled you towards him with surprising strength. Before you knew it, you were standing face-to-face with him.Without warning, he spun you around so that your back was now pressed against his chest. In swift motions, he stripped away your pants and pushed you forward until you found yourself bent over the table in front of you.

The older grabbed a condom from his bag, he slid it onto his 10 inches with practiced ease. Holding your hands in one of his, he steadied your head with the other. Without any warning, he thrust his hip inside you - filling and stretching you in a single, forceful motion. The strength of his, left you speechless, but there was also an undeniable thrill in this passionate. It felt like your insides were being stretched open wider than ever before. His long 10 inches seemed to push deeper with each thrust, filling and stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

The sight of his bulging member against your stomach served as a visual reminder of the depths he was reaching within you.

"You love it don't you, my little M/N? I know it's your first time baby, which is why your ass squeezing me so tight" He leaned down close to your ear, his rhythmic thrusts continuing unabated, he whispered huskily His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, adding another layer of excitement to the already intense experience. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room,in each powerful stroke.

As you struggled to contain your moans, the pleasure building within you, it seemed to ignite his passion even more. His pace quickened, each thrust driving him deeper inside you with an urgency that spoke of desires left unsatisfied for far too long.

"W-why it's feel so good, i w-want to stop him but i also don't want to---" you speak in your mind, lip bitting, lose yourself in the world of ecstasy.

"FUCK YESSS, ohhh nghhh that's it, you feel so DAMN good m/n" His breath came in ragged gasps, mirroring the tempo of his unstoppable assault.

Despite your best efforts to stay silent, soft groans escaped your lips, revealing how deeply this fervent encounter was affecting you. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed more loudly in the quiet, shadowy office. Thankfully, all windows were tightly sealed and cameras remained unmoving, shielding you from potential disturbances or repercussions.

Heeseung raised one of your leg onto his shoulder, still back facing him, altering his position for increased depth. His rapid thrusts persisted without pause, he has no plan to stop by anytime soon.

Your moans harmonized with his, both of you reveled in the ecstasy of the moment. Even though he was technically your rival, there was no denying that he was giving you the hottest fuck ever, and it's your first time, you're that strong to handle his aggressiveness.

His hips picked up speed, driving into you with greater force than before. The imprint of his veiny cock became more obvious against your stomach with each thrust.

His breathing turned ragged, coming out in short gasps. Meanwhile, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the sensations flooding your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head and losing yourself in the moment.

"Hell ughh-ahh, I'm gonna fill~ your fucking inside with my fucking cum right!!"

As he felt the urge to release growing stronger, he started to fuck into you with increased speed. When the moment arrived, he filled you completely with his seed.

At the same time, you too were overcome by a wave of pleasure, until finally both of you came together in perfect synchronization, before he collapsed onto your back, still intimately connected to you.

His cock remained buried deep within you as you both struggled to catch their breath.

"*Catching his breath* This is your first lesson M/n, if you dare to insults me again, I'm sure there's many more to come"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ My first time writing a smut 🫣 if there's some awkward moment, sorry in advance ~

Ps: I'm planning to write more content like this since my last work is blowing, comment down below who you want next 🤭.

#enhypen #enha x male reader #enha imagines #enha x you #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #enha fluff #enhypen x male reader #kpop x male reader

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httpscomexe · 2 months ago

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You? A Virgin?

Day 4 of Kink-tober - Virginity

Summary: Wade discovers you're a virgin, and it turns him on.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Wade Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Blood, more blood, kind of a blood kink, pv, pet names, violence, descriptions of death, crude humour, virginity kink. (Lmk if I missed any)

Tags: @cellyx33 @foxherder @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 1307 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

You were covered in blood. A grin on your face as you’re bent over, hands on your knees, and a hysterical scoff leaves your throat. You looked like a damned psychopath. Covered in blood and brain matter, but yet, you were laughing at the body under you, his eyes peeled open in fear, or they would be if he wasn’t dead. He shouldn’t have called you a bitch. You step over him, doing a fancy little flip of your daggers before shoving them back into the little holsters on your thighs.

“Wow, that was hot.” He comes up from behind you, pulling you towards him, his hands on your waist.

“What was?” You giggle, his hands finding yours as he twirls you like a princess. A princess covered in blood.

“The sort where you were laughing while covered in blood. It’s fucking psychotic to the point where it’s sexy.” You chuckle, looking down at the floor, a shard of glass showing you how covered you really were. Your long hair was soaked in thick blood, dying it almost brown, some of it still wet as it dripped down between your eyes.

“I should be revolted, but you make it look hot.” Wade exaggerates the word ‘hot’ as he grabs your hand and twirls you again, it was easy considering the blood on the concrete floor was slippery.

“Well red looks good on you too.” You tell him, his feet avoiding the bodies on the floor as he turns the dance into a slower dance. It was definitely psychotic.

“Well mine is a suit.”

“Still looks good.” You shrug.

“You can’t even see my face.” He laughs a little, then stops dancing, pulling his mask off.

“Still hot.” You tap his nose twice before leaving his arms. “Maybe don’t use the mask when you fight.” Suddenly, a thump comes from behind you where Wade is, and you turn to see a new body on the floor, and Wades cheek covered in blood. “Yup, still hot.”

“God if we fucked it would be a total blood bath.”

“Neither of us have blood between our legs.”

“Have you ever been fucked on your period?” He asks casually and you just turn back towards him with your eyebrow tilted questioningly.

“I’ve never been fucked.”

A comidical gasp comes from his mouth, and his hands raise up to cover his lips. “No fucking way.”

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Cause you’re sexy as fuck!” He shouts, blasting a bullet into a man’s head as he groans in pain, and you chuckle a little. “I mean come on, you? A virgin?”

“Yes, me. A virgin.”

“I’m jealous.”

“Why would you be jealous about that?” You chuckle, using your sleeve to wipe some blood off your face as you bend over and reach into one of the man’s pockets, searching for the paper you’d gone there for in the first place.

“I’m jealous about whoever will have the pleasure in taking you first.” You fluster a little, something Wade doesn’t notice from the blood still draining your face, a natural blush.

“It isn’t that special.”

“Your first time is always special.” He tells you, his hand finding your lower back as you stand straight again, the folded piece of paper with written plans inside in your hand is quickly stuffed into your pocket.

“Wow, who knew you were so romantic.” You sarcastically roll your eyes, a teasing grin forming on your lips as you feel his hand grasp your ass.

“Well if I knew you were a virgin I would’ve helped you months ago.” He groans, pulling you against him.

“Well that’s too bad huh?” You ask rhetorically, not realising he isn’t joking as much anymore.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck someone while they’re covered in multiple other men’s blood.”

“That’s a weird thing to have on your bucket list.”

“Can you help me mark it off? I’ve got that 207th bone right now.” He begins to whisper as he pulls you further against him.

“You always have a 207th.”

“Feels like 208 when I’m around you…” He suddenly leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, his tongue trailing over your lips as you part them, allowing him to deepen the kiss. “Fuck you taste like 23 different bad guys.” You giggle, throwing your head back a little and his lips latch onto the skin of your throat, causing a moan to come from your throat.

“Wade, we need to go.” You chuckle, attempting to move away, but his hold tightens on you.

“No we don’t, everyone’s dead. Let’s fuck. I’ll show you a really good time.”

“Right now?”

“Yea, or I swear to God I’ll be calling you ‘Little Ms. Virgin' in front of everyone.”

“You better not.” You arms wrap behind his head.

“Well let’s get going…” He mumbles, leaning forward again to continue his soft kisses to your lips, his body slowly walking you backwards until your back hits a pillar of the warehouse, his hips gently beginning to rock against your in a steady rhythm.

“Can I fuck you?” He asks, and fuck it sounded so hot. Consent really is sexy.

You nod, and his hands reach down between your bodies, his fingers quickly hooking into your combat pants, and his lips never leave yours, causing sloppy and messy kisses to slobber your lips, making you chuckle. You expected nothing more from Wade.

“Fuck I’ve waited for this…” He tells you, pulling your shorts off before undoing the zipper on his suit, one you didn’t know was even there as he pulls his cock out. For your first time, you were definitely confident.

It was just how you felt around Wade.

Confident.

“You ready fox?” You nod, a little urgently. And he wastes no time, his hands gripping your ass as he pushes into you, his lips never leaving yours as you moan into his mouth, causing a groan to come from his.

“Fuck- Wade…” You moan as he begins thrusting in and out of you. As much as you wanted to feel like it was wrong.

You’d just murdered about 50 people together, who were all currently lying on the ground all dead in front of you, some of their mouths hanging open, or some of their stomachs hanging open. But here you were, letting Wade fuck you against one of the pillars. The same pillar you had smashed someone’s head into repeatedly to crack his skull. But you didn’t care.

Wade was your best friend. Even considering he was fucking you into a murder pillar right now. You weren’t sure if this would change your relationship name. From best friends to lovers? Perhaps friends with benefits. Maybe even best friends with benefits. Whatever it would be, you didn’t mind. You were also sure he wouldn’t mind, as long as it included you.

He had joked about getting into a relationship with you before, but you always shrugged it off with a joke. Fuck I’ve waited for this. His words repeat in your head as his lips find your neck again, kissing and biting as your throat vibrates with moans, his dick still sliding in and out of you. He’s wanted this…

“Fuck baby you feel amazing…”

“Logan is totally gonna regret not coming today…”

“Get it? Coming?”

Anyone else might’ve been annoyed, or turned off. But his little jokes while he was pounding you into a concrete pillar made you laugh, your foreheads connected as he suddenly slows down, your hips rocking forward as your mouth hangs open, the feeling of him spilling inside of you causing you to moan, causing you to finish with him.

“I knew you were perfect…” He tells you, gently pulling out of you and he helps you put your feet on the ground.

“Still though… I can’t believe you were a virgin…”

#marvel #marvel smut #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #smut #deadpool #deadpool x reader #wade wilson #wade x reader #wade wilson x reader #deadpool smut #wade wilson smut #kinktober #2024 kinktober #kinktober 2024 #wade wilson kinktober #virginity kink

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lani-heart · 9 months ago

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|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> kang yeosang x reader warning(s) -> mentions of abuse, words -> 1.2K

abstract -> "...I need to get used to it. feeling loved.."

y/n's perspective

“I can do–” “Yeosang” I said again and he smiled awkwardly. “Right, sorry” he said.

His training was so hard to overwrite. Everything anyone does for him. He tried to repay. It was hard to find a way to break this cycle of expectations for him.

He tries to find a way to pay me back and it saddens me… he asks what he can do with his sparkling eyes and a soft smile.

“It’s hard… I feel like San and Wooyoung do a lot and I just sit around and look at your routines. It's… hard” he said and I nodded and ruffled his hair causing him to chuckle.

“Don’t feel bad, besides they decided to do that on their own. Wooyoung cooks because he likes it, and San helps me write because he likes my room. They're not doing it for an incentive… have you thought about doing sessions yet?” I asked. It was a suggestion Kun made last week. It's been a month with him around… and he said sessions would help him realize what he was used to wasn’t what I expected of him.

“I don't know yet… believe it or not I don’t like being around people'' he said and I nodded. Wooyoung was still the one accompanying me outside the apartment despite his excitement. San wants me to have one of them around for safety… but Wooyoung gets distracted easily.

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be comfortable here” I said with a smile and he nodded. “Y/nnie!!!” I heard Wooyoung run towards me and hug me.

“I need groceries,” he said calmly, making me laugh. “Let me get dressed, then,” I said and he nodded. “Can I go with you?” Yeosang asos, surprising me. “If you're okay with that,” I said and he nodded. “I'll stay here with San then,” Wooyoung said as he started writing what he needed.

I went over to the window to see how it was outside. It was gloomy and rainy…

“You should wear something warm” I heard as I saw yeosang was still with me. “Yeah, I know… besides the grocery store is also cold, '' I said and he chuckled. “Do… you want help?” he asked and I smiled.

“If you’d like to go ahead~”

I knew Yeosang knew fashion. He was a social media influencer… or the closest a hybrid could get to famous. He laid out a warm and comfortable outfit for me.

“Maybe I should make you my stylist~” I teased as we were now in the elevator down to the grocery store. I noticed his ears twitching and his tail wagging slightly. “I would love to,” he said genuinely. It shocked me… I didn't question it, however…

As we made it outside he grabbed the umbrella to hold it over our heads. “Wooyoung gave you a big list,” he said and I chuckled. “Well we are the size of a family, and besides San and him eat a lot,” I said and he chuckled but I noticed his flushed look. “Family, huh?” he asked and I smiled.

“Don’t you think?” I asked and he chuckled and gave me a wide smile. “I like to think so,” he said and I was happy he saw us that way. He got along well with San and Wooyoung. The two love to tease him.

I noticed he was slightly getting wet making me grab his hand to put it in the middle. “You're gonna get wet” he whined. “But you're already getting wet, '' I said and he got closer.

Yeosang… he was such a well-behaved hybrid. I sometimes wished he’d have a little fun and think selfishly.

“Do you see how many bags there are?! Wooyoung, you should be more considerate” Yeosang scolded Wooyoung. We carried a lot of bags back to the apartment.

“Ah… sorry” he apologized and I smiled. “It's fine, you’ll make us something tasty right?” I asked and he nodded as he started putting things away.

“Give him a break, he didn’t do it on purpose,” I said when I saw Yeosang still sulking and he nodded. “He shouldn't be making you do too much,” he argued and I smiled. “I helped him with groceries… I did it because I wanted to, " I said and he chuckled.

“I get it… you do these things without asking to be repaid” he said and I nodded. “Besides… I like doing my part around here. I know you want to help… but Wooyoung is the cook. He’s already kicked you out of the kitchen and San does his best to clean around here even if he hates it. I want to help… I do the same thing but Yeosang... You sometimes have to let people do kind things for you” I said and I noticed his eyes turn glassy.

“I'm fine, don’t worry… it's– I need to get used to it. Feeling loved I mean” he said and I smiled while hugging him. “You’re a part of our family now. Don’t push yourself too much, okay? We accept you just the way you are. We’re not asking for anything in return” I said and he nodded.

“I sometimes feel that I suffered everything that I went through to meet you,” he said, shocking me and he chuckled.

“I’ll forever be grateful for you, and I owe you a lot even if you say I don’t, '' he said and he grabbed my cheeks to kiss my forehead.

“I’ll do the sessions. It’ll help me right?” he asked and I smiled. “You don't have to–” “I want to. I want to accept everything you give me. I want to do it to get over my old life” he said and I nod.

“Anything you ask of me, I'll do my best to fulfill it” I said and he chuckled.

“You really are an angel”

Yeosang started sessions. Kun would give me reports every week on his progress and his mental status. He… wasn’t a happy hybrid. Not when she was his owner… He’s just as damaged as San, and just as scared of the future like Wooyoung. I tried my best for him… it's all I could do.

He also thinks he hasn’t found a place in our little life.

He’s definitely what San and Wooyoung needed. An older brother to play with… He also took the stylist thing I said seriously. He started planning my outfits… whether i'm going out, hanging out with the girls, or just staying at home. I would wake up to an outfit at the edge of my bed.

It was… cute.

Yeosang was now a crucial part of my routine… just like San and Wooyoung.

Waking up to the three hybrids saying good morning in their own ways was reassuring. San would grumble good morning since he only wakes up early because Wooyoung threatened him with no breakfast if he woke up late.

Wooyoung said good morning and gave me a hearty breakfast, while Yeosang would knock on my door to fix my hair and call me that nickname. Angel… I don’t understand why he sees me that way but I accepted it, like how I accepted him.

I wouldn’t trade any of this for anything

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

please don't be a silent reader !! reblog, comment, and like <3

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seungfl0wer · 5 months ago

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*I’ll do anything* P.2

Part Title: Warmth

Paring: Minho x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut/Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Mafia!Au, Mentions of Pew Pews, Mentions of not eating, unprotected sex, Creampie, outside sex kinda. This was proof read but I re-uploaded it so it’s not anymore

Series Master List

-🩵

A few days had passed since moving to Minhos place. Things have been very quiet. Minho hasn’t been home very much only coming home late at night. When you do see a glimpse of him in the morning he honestly looks rough. He looks very drained like work has been kicking his ass. Which duh it probably quite literally has. I mean you wash his clothes you see the blood stains on his shirts.

You were doing your nightly routine of cooking dinner for the man in question before hearing a knock at the door. Your heart jumped slowly making your way to look through the peep hole. It was Minho being carried by a muscular man. He knocked again your hand shook as you went to open the door. You opened it to let him in, he walked him to the couch placing him gently down. He looked at you quickly looking you up and down “you must be y/n hmm?” He said his eyes studying you.

You nod looking down at Minho who was all bloodied up. His beautiful plump lips swollen, nose bloodied and his shirt ripped. You looked back up at the other man standing there “he’ll be alright we had the doctor check him over.” He said seeing your worried face. “I’m changbin by the way, I’ve known Minho for well over 10 years.” He said patting the back of him. “He may need help in the shower though, definitely needs one.” He said moving his hand over his nose acting like he stank. He let out a soft chuckle “just be careful with his shoulder though one of the bullets did graze him.”

Changbin made his way towards the door “take good care of him ok? He might act all big and bad but he’s a good guy.” He said with a smile. You nodded smiling back at him “if you need anything here’s my number.” He said handing you a card, you went to grab it the two of you making eye contact. He was staring what felt like straight to your soul, he let out a deep sigh before letting the card go. “Man does he know how to pick the pretty ones” he said turning around “I’m just happy he finally got someone after his last psycho honestly.” He said waving good bye walking out the door.

As much as you wanted to go after him and ask him a million questions you made your way back to the man slouched on the couch. He squinted at you trying to get up he felt embarrassed letting you see him like this, All beat up and tattered. As he tried getting up you quickly grabbed his arm helping him stand. “How about I run you a nice warm bath?” You said leading him to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet running him a look warm bath before turning to him.

Shit. You had to get him naked. You didn’t think this through. Would he be mad at you? You asked yourself “y/n if you’re uncomfortable you don’t-“ he slurred his words before you cut him off “no it’s fine- I just didn’t want you to be mad or anything.” You said softly. He shook his head “I don’t mind.” He said slowly trying to take his torn shirt off. You quickly helped him out of his clothes. Trying to keep your eyes on anywhere but his upper body. God was it hard though. You felt like a pervert ogling him like you were but you’ve never seen a man so perfect before.

Everything about him just looked perfect, his body, his arms, the few tattoos he had and- and how well off he was below. You felt your cheeks heat up as Minho got up his naked body inches away from you “y/n” he said in almost a whisper making you look up at him. His eyes were dark staring at you with love? Lust? You couldn’t tell. You replied with a simple hmm while you stared back at him “thank you” he said his voice barely audible now. He himself to sit in the bath as he let the water wash over him.

“Feels good” he said letting himself sink into the bath. You let him relax for a bit before grabbing the shampoo washing his hair for him. He let out almost purrs of happiness at the feeling his eyes closed. You rinsed his hair for him now grabbing a rag to wipe the dry blood from his face. He grabbed your hand looking up at you, you were so close to his face. “It takes everything in me not to just kiss you.” He said again in the most softest voice you could barely hear. You stayed like that for what felt like hours before he stood up.

“I feel a lot better now.” He said as he washed off the rest of his body. You just kinda stared at him in awe. He chucked a bit looking at you “keep staring at me like that I’ll think you want me.” He said teasingly. Your face went red turning away “If you need anymore help yell I’m gonna finish dinner.” You said walking out of the bathroom. Minho had a huge smirk on his face. Thinking of something he was gonna put into action.

He walked behind you while you were cooking leaning himself behind you like he had before “y/n” he cooed into your ear. “Remember how you said you’d do anything to help?” He said pressing his body against you and then you felt it. He hasn’t even gotten dressed he was in only his robe. Your face grew hot feeling every inch of the man against you. You could feel yourself becoming turned on your core almost aching. You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered when Minho asked “is that a yes or no.”

He had himself positioned perfectly against you. His bulge pressing so nicely on the outline of your ass. He slowly moved his hips against you, you bitting your lip all you could do is nod. “Good” he said placing his hand on your hip pulling your body closer to his “why don’t we eat and then maybe we have some fun after?” His voice was full of lust you could feel how hard he was against you it made your body hot, you felt like had caught fire.

You couldn’t even muster out a word your head spinning at everything “answer me kitten” he said voice almost a hum. You nod yes before the man was spinning you around to look at him “use your words” he said hand coming up to cup your face “ok” you stuttered out making him raise a brow. “Just ok?” He studied your face. He not use to someone being like this with him. Most women throw themselves at him and here you were being all shy and reserved. His eyes looked over your face “I’m not gonna force you. I might be a criminal to most but I’d never force myself on anyone.” He said pulling away from you.

You don’t know what had come over you your hands moved pulling him close to you “i- it’s not that I don’t want to- I mean who wouldn’t want to with you.” You rambled “it’s just- you’re still hurt and haven’t probably eaten and I- I just wanna make sure you’re ok.” Your voice growing softer after every word until it sounded almost like a whisper.

“Y/n.” He was honestly in shock at your words “why do you even care?” He asked his voice meeting yours at a whisper “you’re just doing this for money, why do you care if I’m hurt.” He choked out. His chest became almost tight feeling all types of emotion. “Because, you could have turned me away, could have killed me and not even be fazed but you’ve helped me.. more than you probably know..” your words faded off.

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him you both stayed there in each other’s embrace for a few minutes before he pulled away. He smiled a bit looking at you “listen kitten I’ll never be to hurt to have a good time with you.” He joked “but let’s eat” he said as he grabbed you two a drink. You made him a plate placing it in front of him as you started to clean up the kitchen. “Sweetheart the kitchen can wait sit and eat with me.” He said looking over at you.

“I’m ok I’m not really hungry” you lied. Truth be told you haven’t really eaten anything since being here. You felt bad for eating his food so you snacked on the small bit of food you still had from your house. “When’s the last time you actually ate” his voice stern almost “and don’t you lie to me” he said in the same deep voice. You felt air catching in your throat a lump not letting you speak “I don’t know” you hiccuped out it was soft barely audible.

“Excuse me?” He said his voice sounding almost angry? No not angry more upset? “Look at me.” He demanded. You slowly turned looking at the floor head slowling looking up at him. “Why haven’t you been eating? You make the food for Christ sake!” He said his words coming out louder than he expected. Your heart was beating fast, you could almost feel tears pricking at your eyes before he said softly “you need to eat you’ll get sick and I don’t want to see you hurt.” He said eyes locking with yours “I just- didn’t wanna eat your-“ he cut you off “y/n this is your home now too, yeah the circumstances aren’t quote on quote normal but still” he said getting up.

He motioned for you to sit as he made another place for you “eat please” he said placing the food in front of you “and make sure you continue to do so.” He said waiting for you to take a bite “make a list and we’ll go shopping for stuff you like.” He said signing. He watched you pick up the food slowly eating it. “I can’t believe you” he let out a chuckle. “What am I gonna do with you.” He said the chuckle becoming louder.

You both sat there eating dinner together before you get up to take the dishes dropping them into the sink. You were about to start them before you felt Minhos hand on yours. “Come with me.” He said he guided you to a side door bringing you out to the garden he had. He brought you to a small spot he had a big pillow at. He smiled as he pulled you down with him on the pillow.

“This is one of my little safe spaces.” He says while staring up at the night sky. You turn looking over at the man his eyes sparking just like the stars painted in the sky. You curled up into his arms as you both laid there. Your hand rested on his thigh then you remembered he was still in his robe. You swore at the touch of your hand you could see a pink creep on his cheeks.

Your hand rubbed his thigh half not meaning it in anyway the other half wanting him to just take you there. He hummed at the feeling your hand inching closer and closer to his unclothed cock. Minho left out a soft groan at the feeling. “Y/n” he said his voice low “don’t start something you can’t finish” he teased. “If- if I happen to want to start something will you be ok?” You questioned.

His body warmed at the question there you go again making sure he was ok with it. He lifted your head staring into your eyes “I’ll be fine.” He said lips dancing close to yours “are you ok with it?” He asked wanting to make sure you were comfortable. You nod yes looking at him getting lost in his eyes. “Words kitten” he said this time placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Y-yes” you said eyes fluttering at the feeling of how soft his lips still were even after being hurt. His eyes squinted “yes what?” Your head tilts a bit remembering you agreed to only call him sir. “Y-yes sir” you stuttered. He got a smug smirk plastered on his face “you’ve been forgetting that haven’t you kitten?”

“I’m sorry sir” you said softly “it’s ok for now, I’ll punish you later for it.” He said biting the bottom of your lip before pulling it. “I want this to be loving more than lust” his voice faded before continuing “tell me if I’m hurting you or you want me to stop.” He said waiting for you to answer as you nodded yes that’s all he needed before kissing you passionately. The feeling he had for you was so strong almost like you both had known each other for years.

His hand quickly found the hem of your pants, his hand diving in feeling how wet you were already from him. You slipped two fingers into you curling them as he moved them sloppily. His kisses following suit, sucking your tongue. You let out the sweetest noises making him groan in return “fuck you sound so pretty” he cooed as he moved his hand fast his thumb circling your clit. You moved your own hand to grip around has throbbing cock moving is slowly. He let out almost what sounded like a whimper at the feeling of you touching him.

“Y/n” he said between kisses “I can normally last but- I really don’t think I’ll be able to right now… it’s been awhile and you just..” he admitted with a sigh “I need to feel you.” He said moving to be on top of you his eyes searched your face for a protest “kitten” he choked out “I’m all yours remember?” And that’s all he needed he tossed your pants off before pushing himself into you. The sinful noise that filled the air from the sound of skin smacking to the noises you both were making.

Minho latched himself to your neck sucking it hard you digging your nails into his back. His hand came up to play with your clit as he fucked deep into you. Everything that was happening felt like a dream. A wet dream but a dream at that. The beautiful man was moaning into your neck letting out curse words as you clenched around him “sir!” You moaned loudly Minho groaning “y/n- say- say my name please. I wanna hear you say my name while you cum on my cock.” He said his words jumbled together.

He pumped faster into you his hand racking your bud as he drove you both your highs. You almost screamed out his name as you came. You could feel his cock twitching inside you “where” he said quickly feeling himself about to release “in-“ you stuttered as he unloaded himself deep inside you. His body shaked as he tried to catch his breath. He looked down at you kissing you softly before laying his body next to you. He pulled you close to him, rubbing your back. He looked like he was in deep thought.

You looked up at him catching a smile creep across his face “do you just charm your way into everyone’s heart so easily?” He asked looking down at you. When you didn’t respond he just smiled “you know it’s honestly hard to crack my ice heart but since I’ve met you your warmth has thawed it a lot.” He said now staring at the stars. “I really wanted to just make you my slave and be how I am to others. But you just- dig those claws into me.” He rambled on.

“What I’m trying to get at is I was prepared to just be an asshole to you like I am to everyone else because it’s easier with this job however seemed like you had other plans even if you didn’t mean too.” He said looking back at you. “Just know though, I’ve been fucked over really bad before so I still might need some warming up in some aspect. But I’ll fight the world for you y/n you have my word on that.” He said kissing you softly.

The big bad mafia boss was spilling all the sweet honey from himself for you. The little bear eating it up every second. Your mind was still in shock at how things were going his kiss bringing you back to reality. “Let’s get cleaned up and head to bed yeah?” He said stretching “let’s have a date tomorrow, we can stop by the hospital to see how your bother is.” He said smiling meeting yours that crept across your face. You both walked in taking a quick shower Minho took your hand looking at you “mine or yours?” He asked.

“Whichever” you answered back just wanted to lay in bed “we’ll go to yours.” He said walking into your room greeted by your cat who stretched as he saw you come in. You both crawled into bed cuddled up to one another. Your cat finding a spot between you both, Minho let out a happy sigh. “This is the warmth I’m taking about” he said softly as he kissed you before you both drifted to sleep. A long whirlwind of a night coming to a perfect ending.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Tagglist: @linoxii , @scuzmunkie

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ahotmesswithprivilege · 2 months ago

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Never Alone

paring: Bradley Bradshaw x female!IC!reader (callsign Nike )

wordcount: ca. 3700 (only because this will be a multi-part thing XD)

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

note: I initially intended to post the whole thing (currently at almost 12000 words 🤯 ), but I really wanted to post a new piece and since I started a lot of new WIP instead of finishing something I thought this would be a good idea. Also, my Rooster debut so to speak (you can thank @mynameismckenziemae for this one. The fact that Rooster is the hero in this one is kind of on her 😅 . Thanks for helping me decide and for listening to my rambles on the regular. I am really thankful for the support) and I hope you all like it. And you know that navy inaccuracies are a given with my stuff, but this time I went a bit more ham than usual. The role of IC (Incident Commander) is existing in crisis and natural disaster management but fuck if I know if some work for the Navy. I made all of that up for the sake of the plot. Don't like that, please skip this one. And last but not least, yes this is yet again very self-indulgent stuff and it will get only worse with the next part, so if you don't like it, click off 😘

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): plus-size!reader, military/navy inaccuracies, non-canon (not even sure if this is canon compliant so, take that as you will), allusion to trauma/dissociative episode, written by a non-native speaker

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics gif by @jensens-ackles

!!!Minors do not interact! I block blank blogs/without age/Minors!!!

When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser on his arm he knows how this is gonna end. Take her home, have some fun and then kick her out. He wasn't one to indulge often, but considering how Maverick had been on his ass during training all week, he really needed to let off some steam. His arms were wrapped around her waist, lips wandering over her neck as he manoeuvred her back towards his Bronco until he stopped in his tracks.

There it was again. He had almost missed it with the busty brunette giggling into his ear, but he was sure that he heard right. "Hey Casanova, I am down here", she puts a hand on his cheek to pull his focus back to her," You wanted to show me a good time, remember?" But Rooster couldn't focus on the way her hands were roaming his body or the way she began to kiss his jaw, leaving a trace of lipgloss in her wake. "Didn't you hear that? Someone's crying" "That's just a girl who got what you promised me", she retorts, but it only makes him cringe. If this is how she imagined the sound of a consenting couple, he sure as fucking hell didn't want her in his bed.

Untangling himself from her limbs he walked over to the dark place next to a huge palm tree. The curled-up figure was barely visible in the shadows, but the sniffling was getting louder the closer he walked. "Hey what about me?", the woman whines, stomping her high heel sandal-clad foot on the ground. "Go in and find yourself another set of tags", he growls back annoyed, regretting the tone of his voice and the volume the moment he sees the figure flinch.

This was bad.

For a moment he wondered if he should call Phoenix or even Penny to make sure he wasn't doing more damage than good, but then he saw how a ring caught the light from the Hard Deck entrance. He knows that ring. The silver laurel branches that are winding around a delicate finger. He has seen it more than once.

"Nike?", he freezes for a moment unable to compute the situation. He had been at the Hard Deck all night and was sure he would have spotted you in the crowd. Not to mention that you weren't one for bars. You said as much yourself whenever one of the others had invited you for an evening out. "Hey Nike, it's me. Rooster", he tries to make himself small as he approaches, not wanting to intimidate you, voice soft and gentle. "Are you...", he begins before he stops himself. Was he really just about to ask you if you were ok? It's so goddamn fucking obvious that you are not, so he settles for something else. "What happened, Nike?" You were still sitting there, legs pulled close to your body, head resting on your knees as you cried. He moved another step closer when you suddenly looked up at him as if only now you realised that someone was there. "Rooster?"

Your chest was heaving, your fingers nervously drumming on your kneecaps while you tried to focus on him, clearly struggling with the situation "Yeah. It's me. Shall I call someone?", he asked and as soon as he mentioned the call you began frantically shaking your head, reaching a trembling hand out to him to grab the wrist of the hand that was about to reach into his pocket. "No, please don't" He pulls his hand back out of his pocket and lifts it up in the air to signal surrender. "Ok, I'm not"

Bradley only knows you as IC. The woman for the impossible jobs and who you call when shit hit the fan and you need someone to fix it. A woman tough as nails and level-headed who always has a backup plan for the backup plan to make sure you got your people home safe and you were fucking brilliant at it. They named you after the goddess of victory for a reason. Whenever he was on a mission you were responsible for he felt a lot calmer and he knew he wasn't the only one. People trusted your competence and your judgement. They trusted you.

Hell, you were probably the only person on planet Earth to tell Admiral Simpson no if you thought something was a shitty idea and lived to tell the tale.

"Then say what you need Nike. Please?", he pleads feeling completely helpless. He has never seen you so utterly terrified and there is a feeling rising in his chest that makes him want to knock on the door of whoever left you so scared and very impolitely beat the shit out of them. You loosen the grip on his wrist and let your hand glide down his arm until yours is in his and he gives you a reassuring squeeze. Even with his fingers wrapped around yours, he can feel the trembling. When you finally answer him your voice is barely above a whisper. "A place to stay"

He didn't need to hear anything else. He just nodded and pulled you up by the hand that was still clinging to his own. Your feet were wobbly and the heels didn't make it any better. His eyes wandered over you, assessing whether there was any injury that he had to be mindful of before he let go of your hand for a second, the terror lighting back up in your eyes immediately. "It's ok, Nike. I am here", his voice is low and raspy as he places one hand on your back and bends down, placing the other under your knees to pick you up bridal style. He felt the way your body seemed to relax in his hold, face buried in his neck as he rested his head on yours before he murmured into your hair. "Let's get you home"

At a red light on the drive to his place he looks down where your hand is still holding his, his thumb gently petting the back of your hand while your head rested on his shoulder. In all the years of knowing you, he's never seen you so close to someone else. You usually prefer to keep people out of your personal space. It was something everyone on base respected and that makes him wonder.

You were so strong, so resourceful and intelligent. You had seen so much shit in your life and 9 times out of ten they called you in when it already hit the fan, so you were no stranger to working under immense pressure, the lives of people depending on the shots you were calling. How could someone bring you into a position where you would be so utterly terrified that it'd push you into a state that looked like a full-blown anxiety attack?

Considering the pretty dress, the heels and your by now smudged make-up it was likely you'd been out today and since bars and clubs are not your scene, he figures it must have been a restaurant. The thought that someone treated you so badly was infuriating him. You had dedicated your life to protecting people, making sure that they get back home to their families and loved ones unharmed. To treat someone like you bad enough to send you spiralling called for a grade-A asshole and a part of him hoped you'd tell him the name later. He would gladly pay that asshat a visit and he would bet, the rest of the dagger squad would happily tag along.

It's not much later when he puts the Bronco in park in front of his house, feeling the way you instantly stiffen next to him. "I'll go ahead and open the door", your grip around his hand tightens even more. You are holding on to him for dear life. Bradley Bradshaw was your lifeline right now and to be someone you trusted so much filled his heart with pride. He only wished he would have found out under different circumstances.

"I'll be right back, Nike", he hears you stifle a sob while you tremble. Whether it's the chill night air or your fear, he is not quite sure and so he leans to the side to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You tell me when you are ready", he adds, pulling you into an embrace as the two of you sit here in his car. He'd stay here with you for hours if you needed it. "Promise you'll come back" "I promise", he looks down at you and you nod. Letting go of his hand so he can get out of the car. Brad cannot remember any other time when he ran up the steps to his house this fast, unlocking the door and grabbing the quilt from his couch before he gets right back to you.

Seeing the way your eyes light up when you see him as he opens the car door makes his heart soar and ache at the same time. "Told you, I'd come for you Nike", he steps closer and gently places the blanket around your shoulders and when he picks you up again he feels how you instantly melt into his embrace. "I'll always come for you"

He tried to kick his front door closed as quietly as he could to not spook you even more and kept the lights off too as he made his way to his bedroom. From there he goes into the en-suite and sits you down on the counter. "Blanket on or off?" "Off" He nods, taking the colourful patchwork off of your shoulders and throwing it in the corner where he usually stores his dirty laundry. He could deal with that some other time. "I'll turn on my bedside lamp in the other room. Close your eyes and I’ll tell you when to look”, he was looking for any sign that you needed another moment but you nodded.

So he turns around and walks into his bedroom, turning on the lamp and throwing the next best piece of fabric over it to dim the light. It was enough to see something but not too much on your eyes that had probably gotten used to the darkness outside. "You can open your eyes", he says, turning back to look at you, eyes wandering over you for a moment to see if there was any injury that he had missed in the darkness outside the Hard Deck but he couldn't find anything. On his way back to you he rummaged around in his drawer, finding a Phillies jersey that could fit you if the dress wasn't comfortable enough for you to sleep in.

"I'm back", he announces himself and sees how your entire body relaxes, shoulders lowering and fingers no longer playing nervously with your ring. "I'm gonna take your shoes off first" He throws the jersey over his shoulder before he goes down on his knees, unlacing your oxford heels, every move slow and deliberate, before he places them down on the floor under the cabinet, to get them out of the way. He is looking up at you from his crouched position. He wants to seem as non-threatening as possible for what comes next.

"Do you want to keep your dress on or change into a shirt?", he asks, taking the jersey from his shoulder and showing it to you. He sees the way you are contemplating for a long while, brow furrowed and teeth sinking into your lower lip before you reach out for the worn-out material. It's soft and you are digging your fingers into the material and holding onto it the way you'd been holding onto his hand. Holding on for dear life.

"Want me to stay or wait outside?", he asks, not wanting to put you into a worse situation than you are already in. Damn, he wished you would have allowed him to get Phoenix or Penny, then this would have been not as bad by a long shot. You are quiet for a while and he wonders if you've drifted off again the way he found you in front of the Hard Deck, but then your gaze finds his and you take a deep breath. "Can you help with the zipper?" "Of course"

He gets up and watches you jump off the counter, your stance much more stable now that the heels are off. It's more the look he's used of you and it gives him the feeling that he's at least doing something right here. You turn around, his jersey still pressed to your chest, looking down at the washed-out red and white fabric as if it gave you some form of solace. Bradley takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours in the mirror to make sure you know what would come next and when you give him a nod he reaches out his hand, gently pulling down the zipper. Underneath the fabric is some sort of underdress all laced up with a pretty bow. Fuck. He would have never taken you for the corset-wearing type of gal.

You let the dress slide down to the floor before you pull his jersey over your head. He wants to help you to smooth it down your body but you shake your head and his hands are off immediately. "Sorry" "No...Can you untie...?" This time he's the one nodding, letting his hands glide under the fabric, pulling at the laces to undo the bow and then loosening them enough so you could let it glide down your body too and step out. The pile of fabric, tulle and boning is on the floor and he sees that you attempt to lean down, your hand on the counter for balance in order to pick your clothes up but he's faster. "Thank you" “I can put this on a hanger for you”, he nods over to where he usually stores his drying shirts. “There are loops...”, you start and he easily finds them, placing them on the hanger's hooks before he puts them on the clothes rail. As his eyes wander over the dress, he's wondering for a moment who you had met to doll up like this. "Anything else?"

He sees the way you are thinking, fighting with yourself "Whatever it is, if I can do it, I will" "Can you help with the stockings?" You don't meet his eye, probably embarrassed to make yourself vulnerable in front of a coworker like this but right now Rooster doubts that there is anything in this world he wouldn't do for you.

So for the second time tonight, Bradley Bradshaw lets himself fall onto his knees, feeling your hand on his shoulder for support while both hands are smoothing up your calf to your knee and under the jersey, feeling where the nylon ended so he could pull it down for you. His eyes are glued to the ground to make this at least a little less awkward for you. Once the fabric is gone, he switches to the other side and repeats the same movement before he looks up at you, the bunched-up material ending up under the sink next to your shoes.

"You good, Nike?", he asks, eyes searching your face for any sign that he's overstepped but all he finds is that gentle expression of fondness on your face, not quite a smile but considering the circumstances, Bradley would settle for this. You give him a small nod, hand moving from his shoulder closer to the crook of his neck, fingers lingering on his scars and Brad couldn't help but close his eyes at the gentle touch, willing his body to stay perfectly still to not destroy this moment of peace. Not for you and not for him. "Thank you Rooster", he's had your voice in his ear so often, assertive and commanding, but now your voice was gentle, as much a caress for him as your fingers. "For you, always", he looks up at you and for a moment he feels like the world stops turning and he wonders if given another chance at a different time, you would return to his home and allow him to prove to you that there were men out there who could treat you right.

When you finally pull back your hand he slowly moves up to stand before you, towering over you but you don't flinch. Bradley Bradshaw doesn't make you feel you need to and he cannot help but feel a pride rising in his chest that of all people, you chose him to put your trust in. "Now let's get you into bed", he steps to the side, letting you walk past him with his hand hovering over the small of your back. His hand wants to touch, but he doesn't want to push. Not after the night you had. That is until he realises that you are walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you are going?" "Couch" Fuck no. He would not make you sleep on that thing that was short and so worn out that it'd surely break your back. But what was even worse than the idea of you on his couch was the fact you believed that he would allow, let alone want that. Getting his hands back on you he picks you up bridal style and carries you back over to the bed. "You take the bed" "Rooster..." "No" There is a small smile playing on his lips. It reminds him of the first time he met you way back when.

You had just finished the mission briefing when Hangman suggested a change to the plans and your only reply was: "No" "What no?" "No", you looked Hangman straight in the eyes, pretty brow arched, and everyone in the room could feel the fury start to simmer in Hangman's veins at the way you're dismissing him and his points so easily. "No is a complete sentence, Lieutenant Seresin. Considering your reputation as base casanova I was hoping you'd understand the concept" That was the moment Rooster knew that he liked you.

Rooster was a navy guy and could sleep wherever, even on the hardwood floor if he had to, but you needed some proper rest. He lays you down on the bed as gently as possible and when he straightens his back he sees the expression on your face. It's such a wild swirl of emotions that are washing over your features, ever-changing like the ocean, that he doesn't know what to expect next, but it sure as hell wasn't this. "I'm scared of being alone"

He knows that this is far more than a simple statement. It is your way to ask for him to stay, to have him around for your comfort. It's not like he doesn't want to, but there is a part of him that wonders if this would be something you'd come to regret the next morning. He had always known you as someone who loved her personal space, avoiding even handshakes whenever you could. He had his hands all over you tonight and he didn't want to push his luck, but then he saw your pleading eyes and he smiled down at you. "I'll just get into some comfortable clothes and then I'm right back", he leans down and presses a soothing kiss to your forehead. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this soft around someone and yes, the circumstances were shitty at best, but there was a part of his heart that revelled in the gentleness of these moments. "Thank you, Bradley"

He has to stop himself for a moment, eyes wide with surprise as he looks at you. Never before have you used his first name. It was always Lieutenant, Bradshaw, Rooster or a combination of those three, usually depending on how pissed you were at him for fucking around with your meticulous mission plans. There was a flicker of fear that washed over your face as the realisation hit you what you just said but he reached out his hand, gently resting on your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. "No need to thank me, Nike. I am glad if I can help"

He allows himself another moment to enjoy the feeling of your soft skin against his before he pulls back and turns to grab some fresh clothes to sleep in and heads to the bathroom. His movements are hurried, almost frantic while he gets out of his clothes and ready for bed. All the while feeling a fear creeping up on him. He closed the door, to make sure to respect your boundaries but now he regretted it. It meant he couldn't check in on you, couldn't make sure that you were ok and not spiralling. Throwing his worn clothes over to the hamper without caring if he actually hit or not he just pulls on his sweat pants and opens the door, muscle shirt still in hand as he walks into the bedroom and pulls it over his head.

When he reached the bed where you had curled up already, he crouched down to be on eye level with you. “Tell me what you need from me", his voice is soft and quiet as he talks, pushing a strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. He sees how you try to sink even deeper into the pillow as if you wanted to hide from him and that makes his heart ache. "Remember Nike. Whatever you need as long as I can make it happen, you'll get it" "Can you...", your voice is barely above a whisper and when he tries to meet your gaze you turn around and scoot over on the bed to make room for him. "I just really don't want to be alone"

You feel the way the mattress is dipping under his weight but you cannot bring yourself to turn around and look him in the eye. "You are not alone Nike", his voice is close to your ear and you can feel the way his breath is fanning out over your cheek and neck. And then you surprise him when you reach behind him and take his hand to place it over your waist, your fingers interlaced with his as your thumb drummed a nervous rhythm into the palm of his hand. "You are never alone"

Part 2

likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist HERE

#do I work on a greek pantheon with my callsigns who knows #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfic #top gun fanfiction #I hope you enjoy #even though I am not sure it's quality content #geh mit gott aber geh #my writing

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ghostybaby000 · 5 months ago

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Sessions | Part 1

Part 2

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Fighting, SA, cursing, future smut, fluff, panic symptoms, intense stress

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso

You were breathing hard, the sweat stinging your eyes, the room was darker than before- or was it? You didn’t have time to take notes.

Focus. This is supposed to be life or death.

The lights in the room were blinding as you used the back of your hand to wipe the sweat from your face, a shadow Infront of you when your hand dropped. A looming shadow of a man over 6 foot tall, with broad shoulders who moved incredibly well given his size.

Simon stepped closer, the light illuminating him in the room, you exhale and your shoulders drop, you had been bested again, and caught off guard. The room was an average size for a gym and could hold probably 15 to 20 people comfortably, although it was just the two of you tonight. The only lights left on were the ones in the center of the room, making a dark circle for an outer ring, where you practiced in the middle.

‘You have to be ready for any approach.’ His voice was low and serious, although his intentions were innocent and thoughtful. You look down to your hands and feel them ache through the wrappings he had put on.

He began to circle the outer ring of darkness eventually falling back into the shadows somewhere behind you,

‘Again.’ You took a sharp inhale in as you tried to listen for where he could be in the room. It was entirely silent. Your thoughts of the ache in your hands began to creep in as you tried forcing them out, the thought of not being ready was only making this harder.

A boot scuffs the floor behind you, whipping around you see nothing. Your ears strained in the silence only put you more on edge, every noise was important.

You kept your posture in check, taking a stance that was ready for combat. You again hear the boot on the floor, this time behind you spinning around again there was nothing. Now time was dragging on in the small hot circle of light, your readiness only increasing.

The thoughts in your mind cease as you spin around, throwing your arm to punch at whatever was behind you, and making contact. A pad over Simons chest had caught the blow, a smile coming over your face as you dropped your hand, achievement outweighing the pain that followed.

‘Better?’ You looked up to Simon who had a small grin over his face, you knew he was proud. You had made substantial progress from the first few sessions you had done together, where you could hardly imagine punching Simon let alone practicing under these circumstances.

Simons eyes traced over you, eventually making their way down to your hand that you were holding.

‘Yes, you did good. I thought the noise would have distracted you, but you listened to it all, instead of focusing on one noise.’ His smile grew as he took your delicate hand in his and lifted it, beginning to unwrap it under the light.

Your smile begins to fade as the ache grows with every movement, you had been in here for a long time tonight and clearly it was catching up quick.

‘Do they hurt? The padding helps, but truly hitting someone would be more damaging.’ His eyes were looking over your hand, where small bruises started to form over the knuckles. You slowly pulled your hand out of his, taking a moment to look yourself before letting your hands fall. You rolled your shoulders as you looked to the floor, you were tired and aching in more than just your hands.

‘They’ll be fine, I just need to build a tolerance.’ You met Simons eyes for a moment where they closed ever so slightly, he was skeptical.

‘Now, I’d really like a shower and to get to bed, can we go?’ Simons posture relaxed as he made his way closer to you, his hands wrapping around the small of your back where they rested as he looked at you.

‘I would like nothing more.’ A grin came over your face as you slowly pushed off of Simon to take his hand and make your way towards the door. You both gathered your things, turning on the lights for anyone who would come in after and headed out into the night.

The car ride home was quiet, as you let your eyes rest the tiredness waging a war to take over. You open your eyes as the engine shut off, you were back home. Taking the bags Simon made his way first to the door, opening it so you were able to get inside and up to the shower. Glancing at the clock on the living room wall you catch that its beyond midnight, but still you push to make your way upstairs. You hear the main door closing as you too shut the bathroom door and begin to undress.

You take your hair out of a frizzy braid, the relief already making you feel better. Then you took off your shoes and socks, and then the bandages around your hands. After unwrapping them both, you take a moment to look at how bruised they are. On both sides almost each knuckle had a discoloration, but nothing was bleeding or broken so you took appreciation.

You thought to the room where Simon had been training you, and had been pushing you to see growth. Your face fell as dark thoughts began to crawl back into your mind. You thought back to the night, this night in particular where these very skills would have been necessary. The night where things could have ended differently, with you not having to think of his ugly face or his sneering words, or his hands wrapping around you-

‘Hey, can I come in?’ The door was being knocked on as Simon waited outside patiently, and you hadn’t noticed. You wipe your hands over your face, pulling the door open to let Simon in.

Everything would have been different if he hadn’t of shown up.

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ningvory · 10 months ago

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♡ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ME & YOU ┊ kim minjeong

parings: cop!gp!minjeong x criminal!f!reader

synopsis: after the gang you were affiliated with was found, cops came and and killed almost everyone. you were left with having to take them down yourself, just when you thought you thought you got them all, a young woman caught you. that woman being kim minjeong.

warnings: omg!? 1k followers already!? tysm you guys!! it’s only been a month and a few weeks since i started this blog and i had NO experience with writing, means a lot to me so i hope you enjoy this fic!! reader is lowkey a bitch, minjeong is cocky, violent, lotss of profanity, angry sex, minjeong fucks you in her office, oral (minjeong receiving), choking, cum swallowing, minjeong rubs your clit, overstimulation kinda, reader just needed a good fuck fr, unprotected sex (big no no guys!), cockwarming, minjeong’s office is soundproof, reader gets manhandled, they kiss like once, lmk if i missed anything!!

breaking the rules was second nature. you were involved in a gang which could've been the best or the worst choice of your life. you were mainly known for stealing because of how quiet you are. they start to think you're a trained assassin. you never used violence unless it was absolutely necessary, you preferred to keep your hands clean from some randoms blood when doing your job. you always went for luxury items, you're a expensive girl, anything that caught your eye you got it.

the gang you're affiliated had been on the most wanted list for some time. most wanted criminals on the loose ever since some jackass decided to shoot a guy at the club for finding and swallowing the illegal drugs, which the police found after some time of fully inspecting it. when you were notified you wanted to kill the guy off yourself, you weren't into taking drugs so you questioned how hard is it to keep them unnoticed.

no one seem to be aware of the police finding the base so when you heard the sound of a door getting kicked down and gun shots being fired, you jumped. you were half asleep due to it being close to 3 in the morning, they must've picked a late time thinking that you all were asleep so you wouldn't put up much of a fight.

you quickly jumped out of your bed, adrenaline running in your veins as you found a knife and a gun. you wanted to accept your fate but your pride was ahead of you, you aren't going down without a bit of a fight. they would have to take you dead or unconscious.

you ran out your room and was met with chaos. what was known as your home has now became a battlefield, your friends and coworkers were dead on the floor, their blood surrounding them. this just fueled the flame but you knew to keep your composure.

you quietly went downstairs, not making a sound and began shooting at every cop you see. dodging their bullets and using their dead comrades as a shield as you ran toward them, getting close enough so you can stab them.

it was a one woman army, shooting them all until it was only you left standing, white dress gown drenched with their blood as well as the rest of your body. the smell of blood makes you sick to your stomach every time. just when you thought you killed them all, someone attempted to shoot you. making you drop your knife from the shock. the perpetrator took the opportunity to try and pin you down but you were quicker, you kick their side and pulled their hair, bringing their face close to yours.

you inspected the perpetrator, it was a woman who you gotta admit, is stunning with short dark orange hair that was faded to black who stared back at you. you were about to land a punch her way but was met with the feeling us electricity being zapped through you which made you let out a scream.

"bitch! get off of me!" you screamed at the woman you was sitting on your tummy.

your words seemed to phase her because she landed a forceful slap to the side of your face which made you yelp and attempt to hit her back. she was obviously more stronger than your current state because she almost effortlessly pinned your hand above you and used her other hand to choke you.

you were gasping and twisting your body around in a attempt to get her off of you. strangled moans and whines spilling from your mouth and tears filling your waterline, threatening to fall at any given moment. just when you felt you were completely out of air, she let go and placed a cloth over you lips and nose, forcing you to breathe in the substance on the cloth. your struggle evidently grew slower and less frantic and your eyes were half lidded, threatening to close as your vision began to blur until you were met with a void of darkness.

you jumped up from your sleep, breathing staggered and panic filled your eyes as you struggle to manage what all took place. your memories came back to you as you calmed your breathing, you've been caught, you're not even aware if anyone else made it out alive or if they were all killed. you took a look around the unfamiliar room and looked down at your body, you're now wearing an orange prison suit, with what appears to be black sneakers.

"you awake now sleepy beauty?" a husky voice spoke which made you turn your head to the direction of where you heard the voice.

it was the same woman from yesterday, manspreading in a chair in your room.

"were you watching me sleep? ever heard of privacy?" you questioned, attitude laced in your voice.

"say bye to privacy, you get none of that here. wake up 'cause this is your new life." she smirked looking dead in your eyes, fixing her posture in the chair.

"you've slept long, its already lunch time." she spoke again, standing up and walking to the door, which made you stand up when she put her fingers in a "come here" motion.

the woman, which now you know as, minjeong by her coworkers but winter to the prisoners gave you a tour around the prison. showing where everything is, you don't understand why she's doing this. all the prison movies you've seen never shown a cop giving fresh meat a tour.

you don't even know how long your sentence is but you surely hated this lifestyle, the food was so shitty you spit it back out.

"who the fuck is cooking back there because they personally need to get their ass beat for cooking this shit. i'd rather starve." you muttered.

"they'll force you to eat if you don't yourself. they go as far as to stick a tube in your tummy and feed you like that." an inmate told you.

you began chatting with the inmate that you found out was karina, she was totally gonna be your best friend in this hell hole.

the first few days have been okay, you always had an uncomfortable sleep because you were sleeping on literal metal. the other inmates would always look at you creepily which freaked you out a bit, especially in the shower room. but luckily karina came in there with you. with minjeong, you hated her. from her cock ass attitude to the way she would just look so fine. it just pissed you off all together and you made her aware of that. throwing mean words at her anytime you get such as, "bitch, don't touch me." "leave me the fuck alone, bitch." she let it slide but today it seemed she was in a bad mood and she wasn't having none of it.

you woke up and she was in your room, like always. you always poke your fun at her, wanting to hit a nerve so bad so you can laugh in her face.

"you're such a fuckin' creep. don't you have something better to do than be in my room everyday even when i'm sleep?" you questioned, trying to sound annoyed but you do in fact don't mind her in here.

she said nothing but stood up and walked over to you, hooded eyes staring back into your eyes. it startled you, taking a gulp as she walked over to you before grabbing your arm and yanking and you up. dragging you to an unknown place.

"yah! what the fuck — where are we going!?" you whispered not wanting to drag attention to yourself.

she remained quiet, but you felt her hand squeeze your arm, telling you to shut up. so you did, listening to her for the first time letting her drag you to wherever it was that she was taking you to.

you were dragged into what looked like an office, her office. you inspected the area wondering why she brought you here.

"the fuck are we in here for— ah! what the hell?!" you were cut off when you were pushed down to the ground right in front of her black couch.

minjeong stood right in front of you and that’s when you finally saw it, her hard boner pressing against her cop uniform. just the position of you guys had made it visible what she was gonna make you do making you gulp.

minjeong, after making sure you see her problem, started undressing her bottom half. once she took off her boxers her cock rested flat against her tummy, angry red cock leaking precum already.

“go on” she muttered out, patience running thin.

“hah! make me— mph!” the words died down in your throat because she sure as hell did force you.

her hands gripped your head, keeping your head in place while her hips were thrusting wildly into your warm mouth. tears were running down your face while you were gagging on her thick cock, hands on her thighs trying to push you outta her mouth but she was far more stronger than you.

“fuckk! you’re so pretty like th-this, not being a mean bitch. ngh! yea — just keep your pretty eyes on me.” minjeong groaned, forcing you to keep eye contact while she used you as a flesh light.

“fuck! g’na cum! and you’re gonna swallow it all.” she groaned.

her hips began to stutter as she picked up the pace, thrusting wildly into your mouth making you gag until she stopped. your nose was on her pelvis, throat burning while you’re trying to breathe through your nose. she finally came, seed shooting down your throat, more tears prickling your eyes as you swallowed up all of her seed.

she finally pulled out, strings of your spit connected to her cock until the string broke. you were gasping, trying to inhale as much air as you can. she barely gave you a break because she manhandled you on the couch and pushed into you, making you scream she was fucking into you with no prep, you never had something so big in you!

you were screaming trying to run away from her until she pined you to the couch. thrusts were fast and hard making your body push up with every thrust.

“nghh- ah! wait — slow down!!” you cried, eyes shut and back arching with your hands frantically looking for something to grip on.

it was like she didn’t even hear you, her hips had a mind of its own. she growled seeing her bulging your tummy, removing her hand to toy with your clit and the other to press down on your tummy bulge. making you let out pornographic moans which are basically screams until she shut you up with a kiss, all your moans were muffled by minjeong until you came all over her and her couch!

she let you ride out your high, pumping into you until she’s cumming into you, painting your tight walls white.

“you just needed a good fuck, huh?” minjeong said, your attitude was the complete opposite from your regular one with her. you were on her lap, head resting on her shoulder while cockwarming her.

“oh shut up!” you groaned, lightly hitting her making her chuckle.

let’s just say, this affair was between you and her and you both were fucked if anyone ever found out! <33

#ningvory #kpop smut #aespa smut #g!p #wlw smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa winter smut #winter x fem reader #winter smut #minjeong smut

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nox140497 · 11 months ago

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Comfort

Prompt: No

Request: No

Summery: After reading the comments on their latest video, Colby feels really down. Seeing this and knowing Sam feels pretty down, too, Kat sends Colby's girlfriend an SOS, knowing she would know what to do.

Parings: Colby Brock Reader

Authors Note: Hi guys. Heres another one for you. You guys seem to like the Sam and Colby content, so here you guys go. Also, please feel free to make requests if you have any.

Also this >>>>>>>>>>>>>>> means timeskip

This<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< means flashback

Masterlist

Prompt List

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

It was a normal day for Sam and Colby. They had posted a new video recently and were going through the comments.

The comments on this video, however, were particularly negative for no reason. They also seemed to be mostly targeted at Colby.

Needless to say, both boys were a bit upset and wanted comfort. Sam had Kat up in his room with him, but Colby's girlfriend Y/N was still at work. Seeing the state her own boyfriend was in, she could only imagine what state Colby was in, seeing as they were practically targeting him.

So, making a decision to help her friend, she sent Y/N an SOS text. This was a message that the girls of the trap house had started using when the boys were all still staying in the first traphouse. It was a message that said there was trouble and to get there ASAP. She got a response telling her her friend would be there soon.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Y/N walked into the dimly lit house. It was way too quiet for the people who lived there. Now she understood why she had received the SOS from Kat. She walked up to her boyfriends room, figuring out that's where she would find him. Her heart ached as she saw her boyfriend, Colby, slumped on the ofice chair by his desk. Colby had always been a strong and resilient person, he almost always had that beautiful contagious smile of his on his face, but today, the weight of negative comments on his and Sam's video had taken its toll, dragging him into a whirlpool of doubt and self-criticism. She had seen the comments on the video. She had been absolutely furious when they had attacked the boys who worked so hard to make content for the fans who they loved. She had been beyond furious when she saw the ones targeting her love personally.

She couldn't fathom how these people could be so cruel to a man who gave his everything to give them content that they would enjoy.

Seeing this man, the man she absolutely adored, the man who had unkowingly saved her life, like this, slouching in his chair with his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly, didn't just break her heart, it shattered it into millions of tiny pieces.

Y/N aproached him softly not wanting to startle him too much, she knew he had noticed her when he lifted his head ever so slightly. The look in his beautiful ocean blue eyes broke her heart even more. She gently brushed Colby's messy hair away from his forehead and placed a tender kiss on his temple. "I love you," she whispered softly, her voice permeating the air with soothing affection. Colby's breath hitched as he absorbed her words, the depth of her love washing over him like a healing balm. He leaned into her body and buried his head in her chest. She continued to very gently run her fingers through his hair.

"Those comments don't define you, Colby, and they cerainly don't come from all of your fans. Most of them love you boys and you know that." Y/N spoke, her voice steady yet filled with conviction. "You are talented, creative, and so loved by many—including me. Your worth isn't measured by the opinions of faceless strangers."

Her words resonated, and Colby's tense shoulders began to relax slightly. Y/N knew that while her words were a start, actions would speak louder than anything she could say. She took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers as a symbol of unwavering support.

Y/N gently pulled Colby up off his chair and guided him to lay down on the bed, propping pillows up behind his back for support. Tenderly, she covered him with a soft blanket, creating a cozy haven that shielded away the negativity and doubt that had plagued him all day.

She lay curled up next to him and gently ran her fingers through his hair. Eventually, his breathing started to even out, and soft snores started to come from his slightly parted lips.

She continued to watch over him, marveling in just how much love she had for this man. He was the love of her life, and she knew and had known for a while now that his was her person. This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

She reached over and grabbed her phone. She texted Kat, asking her how Sam was doing. After hearing that the man she cared for as an older brother would be ok and was also asleep, she bid her sister in all but blood a good night put her phone back on the nightstand and cuddled into Colby's side. Falling asleep content in the knowledge that her boys were going to be ok.

#colby brock #sam and colby #xplr #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you

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slasherstories123 · 6 months ago

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Can you do Michael,Jason,art, pennywise where there child get the bite of 83 f(from fnad) :D

Slashers reaction to their child being part of the bite of 83

Paring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Art the Clown, and Pennywise the dancing clown x child! Reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @mehidktbh @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @the-anxious-youth @callsignwidow @endomishy

A/N: as a fnaf fan I had fun writing this one 😭💗

Michael Myers

He should’ve never left you alone. He went to get you a plush toy since you desperately wanted it to go with your collection of the other small stuffed animals. He had his mask off so he wouldn’t just be seen as a scary person or the fact that people would recognize him too quickly.The loud crunch of your head being crushed filled his ears, making him snap his head in the direction where four other teenagers had on their own animal masks. Staring up at what they did to you, in complete shock. Your body laid limp in the animatronics mouth with blood splattering over the metal and on your clothes. Michael shoved the teenagers harshly to where they fell to the ground with loud sounds or even fell against the chairs as their impact. Michael held one with a red fox mask, ripping it off his face.

His cold eyes stared at the teenager and the teenage boy tried to make Michael let him go, he apologized repeatedly with more cries, not being able to handle his gaze and begged to be put down. Michael had a death grip on his shirt before slamming him head first into a corner of the table. Some of them screamed and scattered away. Michale then grabbed one of the teenagers in a yellow chicken mask. His grip was firm and it broke her arm with a loud crack, making her scream and he shoved her into the ground too, the other two with the bunny and bear mask screamed for help, when he was at a far distance they took their friends away from him. Michael didn’t care, the yellow bunny kept moving while the bear stood in a glitch, Michael nearly ripped its mouth off trying to get you down, holding your bloody head against his chest. Your face was too bloody to show him any form of life.. but you were still breathing..slowly. His grip on your body got tighter, his veins showed on his hands, they trembled.

Michael’s fingers clenched onto your clothes, he breathed heavily, looking around for some sort of help, no one was there to help. The teenagers were lucky Michael didn’t kill him..or any of his friends for the matter. He left without a trace…hoping he could get the help you needed, hoping you didn’t take your final breath in his arms.

Jason Voorhees

All four teenagers stood frozen when the animatronic bit down on your head, your screams cut out with a loud crunch. Jason heard the crunch. He dropped the plate of pizza he had got for you, taking slow steps before he speed walked to the teenagers who did it. His blue eyes through the mask held a deadly glare that scent chills down their spine. His eyes flickered to every last one of them, seeing who was the guiltiest which gave him the indication that they came up with the plan. The boy with the red fox mask looked the most guilty, even trembling under Jason’s gaze.

Jason’s strong, large hand wrapped around his neck, immediately cutting off his access to breathe. His breathing was heavy the more he squeezed, his friends tried to pry Jason off, but it made him shove them hard. He was never the one to hurt kids, but they hurt you. And he was livid. The boy kicked and tried to cry but with every sound that came out made him loose more air, Jason’s hand trembled, dropping him and he fell to his knees to painfully gasp for air. Jason rushed over to you. Ripping off the upper jaw of the bear animatronic to get you down with trembling arms.

His cold hands pressed against your pressure points for any sign of life. He didn’t feel anything, he didn’t even see your chest rise and fall. Jason held you close to his chest. He watched his mother get murdered, and now..he saw you get murdered. He couldn’t believe it, he wished he was there sooner. He already lost his mother. Now he has to come to the terms that he lost you too.

Art the clown

The clown’s mouth was left agape at the sight of your bloodied body hanging from the animatronics mouth. His eves kept flickering from the children and to you. His kith then turned into a frown. A deep frown. His eyebrows furred together in a pit of rage but out in a fake smile to try and get the teenagers attention.

He snapped his fingers and they all looked at him. Terrified, shocked, and confused. All three of their emotions were displayed their eyes through the animal masks, Art’s eye twitched as he held up a finger as telling them to watch. He heard one of them step back before the rest followed the others motions, he pulled out a gun. A fire gun. Holding it out as if it was a trophy. The teenagers screamed once he pulled the trigger to let out heavy fire, aiming it in their direction. Every last one of them screamed in agony from the fire. He kept going. He didn’t stop until every last thing was on fire. One of the tanagers cried and tried to crawl away from the fire.

The corners of his mouth turned into a smile. Grabbing gasoline from his trusty trash bag and poured it all over them, they screamed louder and the fire got brighter. Throwing the small gasoline box away. Tilting his head up to you, he opened the bears mouth to drop you in his arms. Your weak arm shakily held onto his costume, your breathing was slow and he took you out to leave the place ablaze along with more screams.

Pennywise the dancing clown

The smell of blood filled Pennywise’s nose. Even in his human form he could smell it. Looking around to try and find the culprit of the smell until he took a second to actually smell it. It was your blood. The scent of you filled his nose. His eyes flashed yellow at the sight of the four teenagers. Their fear smelled intoxicating. Every last one of them trembled at Pennywise’s gaze even as he began to shapeshift into his clown form, they screamed louder. Two of them tired to escape but every last door was closed shut.

They didn’t deserve the deadlights. They deserved death. His jaw opened wide as his he lunged towards one of them, ripping their arm off with one bite. Every last one of them, he attacked, ripping them apart and biting into their flesh with loud roars and their screamed mixed with his growls. With one last bite from the last one standing, he dropped them all with his tongue licking the blood off his lips. Glaring at all of their now dead bodies, the walls splattered with their blood covering the walls, almost like a scene out of a horror movie.

Finally, he went to your body that didn’t have a pulse, he growled again and used his teeth to rip the upper jaw of the animatronic off. Sulking slightly at the sight of you dead. Holding you close to his chest, having a hand on your bloody head. You might be dead.. but he’ll cherish your soul.

Forever.

#slashers #slasher fanfiction #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #Michael Myers #Jason Voorhees #Pennywise #art the clown #Terrifier #Halloween #IT #friday the 13th #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 4 #slasher angst #slasher scenarios #slasher writing

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ldysmfrst · 2 months ago

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Incomplete (3) - Something is Wrong...

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 8,272

Word count for Story: 18,866

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter contains panic attacks, unintentional causing of said panic attack.

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

“This way! It’s underground,” yells San, leading the way to the ladymate. The sea shanty sounded from San loud enough that there was no way his ladymate couldn’t hear it. He wasn't about to lose connection with you this time.

Seonghwa is right on San’s heels. He has felt the loss of the missing soulmate the longest. The feeling, compounded with the loss of his grandfather, propelled him forward. It was almost as if he had to slow down just so that he could follow San. Unlike Yeosang and San, his ability lets him know when a soulmate is nearby and what they are feeling, but he couldn’t use it to search for them.

Taking the escalator like they were stairs, San and Hwa were closely followed by Yeosang. Seeing the desperation in his oldest soulmate's eyes, he wasn’t about to let go of the silken rope binding him to the ladymate they were closing in on.

Keeping up with his hyungs, Jongho used what he could of his ability to keep his mates focused and not fearful or anxiety-ridden. It wasn’t until San came running back to the museum that Jongho finally believed that this was actually happening—his anticipation building towards having another bonded soulmate soon.

Some sasaengs in the past had figured out Captain's ability and tried to confuse him with it. A few times, they got close enough to him that it caused strange rifts in the group, but after consulting with a specialist, we were informed that if we had a new soulmate, they would have a connection to everyone. There would be no single soulmate connection.

Hwa, on the other hand, seemed to find someone to keep from somewhere, but they always became good friends. Look at how close his soulmates got with Stray Kids. Hwa would have kept the little blonde Aussie if Chan-hyung had let him– soulmate bond or not.

Reaching the correct parking garage floor, the group stopped, looked around, and trying to see anyone who could have been affected by what was happening. A few groups were laughing, talking, and having a good time, but none looked aware of people walking by, much less feeling a soulmate bond pull.

“There, the lady with our tour shirt on and the clear purple bag,” says Yeosang. The other three looked in the direction he was pointing.

Taking tentative steps forward, Yeosang pulls hard on the invisible rope connecting him to his new soulmate. He smiles when he sees your feet stop moving momentarily before stumbling forward as if resisting him.

San crescendos the song he made for you, moving closer to you without hesitating once he hears a sweet hum following his tune. San has only seen the back of his new lady soulmate, and he can already tell you are beautiful.

You have a lush backside with full hips, broad shoulders, shapely legs, and arms with the smoothest-looking skin. Don’t even get him started on your plum rump.

He and his soulmates joked about all of them being strong but slender until he started going to the gym and Jongho filled out. Now, more than ever, he was happy that he bulked up because this meant he could be your personal mountain.

As they have learned from past mistakes, San must be the first to connect with the new soulmate to initiate the metaphysical bond. Back when San found Hongjoong, Yunho, and Mingi, they introduced themselves as ‘bandmates.’ None of them realized they were soulmates until San hugged them. After that, each mate gained their ability, and everything fell into place rather quickly, with San taking the lead.

San jogs around to stand before you, the woman holding the last piece of their soul. He didn’t expect you to run into him, but you did and quickly snapped out of your trance. You step back, touching his chest with your fingertips brushing the skin of his collarbone. The energy from the bond hits his body like a cannon blast through each fingertip.

When he sees your attempt to walk away, Seonghwa steps up behind you. His natural reaction is to hold his soulmate, placing his warm hands on your chilled skin. Closing his eyes, he lets the chill of the bond form from your skin crash over his body like a tidal wave.

The four fully bonded soulmates can see your confusion, your body seemingly frozen.

Hwa finally opens his eyes to see everyone is there but hasn’t heard anything from anyone. You aren’t acting like a huge fan. Maybe you aren’t a fan and only have the shirt because you went with some friends who knew them. Surprisingly, this thought makes Hwa sad because, well, they are idols, and a non-fan won’t understand the lifestyle, which could cause problems.

You go to take a step forward out of Seonghwa’s hold, but he grips just a little tighter. He whispers, “Wait, please.” Looking at San, Hwa nods, prompting him to say anything.

Barley, loud enough to hear, you finally speak, “This isn’t real.”

Your voice sounds like the most beautiful notes in their world.

Ah, it’s denial, denial we can work with, thinks Jongho as he watches the three soulmates all fawn at you with heart eyes already.

With a warm, soft, and gentle smile, San steps towards you, the new baby mate, in the hands of his oldest mate and says, “Hello, Miss, I am Choi San. I think the nine of us need to sit down and talk.”

There was a moment of silence before a stuttered, “I… ah… have a plane to catch,” came from your lips. Which slightly confused everyone. Seonghwa, in particular, was confused because either fate had superb timing or something was amiss.

Jongho, at least has the smarts and tends to be the most level-headed one, asks, “You’re going on vacation now? Or going home?”

She looks at the man who spoke and whispers, “Choi Jongho.”

A smile graces the youngest soulmate; you know his name. This means that you are at least a fan of K-pop, if not a stan of Ateez.

“Yes, sorry. I am Choi Jongho. It’s nice to meet you,” he introduces himself.

You stare at the three before you, and a giggle sneaks out, but you still haven’t said anything more. This is when the remaining bonded mates join the circle around their new ladymate.

Unfortunately, this has started to attract the attention of people who pass by. They all understand that their time is limited once they get recognized. While they love Atiny, there is a better time for them to circle and vie for attention because it will become something akin to a shark frenzy.

“Oh, good! You found her, Sannie,” smiles Wooyoung. While they might not be an ability-match couple, they undoubtedly favored each other, which shows. Woo’s scent blankets the group around the circle, lowering the tensions.

“Christmas,” you murmur just above a whisper.

Joyfully bouncing, Wooyoung smirks, “So you did catch my scent, pretty.” Pretty is the first word that came to his head when you looked at him. You have the prettiest eyes he has ever seen.

“If she caught yours, then she must have felt my anchors,” Yunho comments while holding up Mingi. All the mates notice this and glance down at your ankle, worried that it is still hurting you since Mingi is still limping.

However, at this point, you had already leaned into Seonghwa, much to his delight. Now, however, you shifted to actually look at him. He watches with a soft, shy smile as your eyes dart across his face.

At first, he thought you were just accepting of him and the bond. Then he felt the panic building in your body, which was getting unhealthy in his eyes. Then again, any of his soulmates with any amount of panic is considered unhealthy. He concentrated on that feeling and tried to pull it into himself as he did with the others.

Nothing happens.

Hwa can still feel your emotions' instability. It isn’t working. He keeps trying to use his ability while attempting to remain calm and not add to your current state of disarray. Jongho pushes his ability to try to help keep Hwa from spiraling along with you.

Nothing.

“She hasn’t recognized us yet. We can’t help her. Hongjoong, I can’t,” Seonghwa says with a hint of desperation. His hands gripping your arms as thumbs rub in circles across your bare skin to comfort you.

He has also pulled you close to his body, not wanting to impose himself on you but offering another form of support. Seonghwa feels it’s the only support you are willing to accept right now.

San and Yeosang move, allowing Hongjoong to join you in the center. His eyes roam your form. Taking a deep breath, he relishes the addition of your Italian Stone pine blend to the rest of the soul mates. It has become the perfect balance with you in the center of it all.

“Do you know who I am?” questions Hongjoong with concern etched on his features. He knows you recognized the maknae, but it's not surprising, with millions of clips showing him singing like an angel while breaking apples with his bare hands.

“Captain,” you answer him with a shaky tone.

Pleased that you seem to be an Atiny, his eyes narrow as a smirk shows, “That is one of the many names Atiny uses, and it is my title. However, my soulmates don’t use that name unless we are in front of a camera. I am Kim Hongjoong, the second oldest of the Ateez soulmate bond.”

They watch you as you rapidly look at the rest of the members. They each agree with nods or hums. It's not common knowledge that Ateez is a bonded soulmate group. They have tried to keep it private.

Seonghwa gets ripples of happiness and relief from everyone.

“Soulmate bond? A whole group bond?” you question.

Nodding, Hongjoong answers, “The group of us, yes but I wouldn’t say we are whole yet. Boys…”

It’s then all attention is back on you. Everyone with a usable ability focuses on you, trying to get you to recognize the bond.

San starts your song back up.

Wooyoung scents the air heavily with his Mugo pine.

Yeosang pulls on the plaited silk rope and attempts to double its thickness.

Seonghwa and Jongho work together to help you escape your panicked state. They try to clear your mind of emotions so that you may think clearly and understand who they are to you.

“No. No, nonononoo,” you say, pulling away from Seonghwa and dropping to your knees as you continue to mumble, “Something is wrong, or I must be dreaming.”

“Y/n!” says a woman from just outside the circle.

San, ever the protector, with Jongho at his side, blocks the woman from getting near you. Their eyes glance at the guards, who start to make their way over. Hongjoong made a mental note to find out who let this woman get this close.

“Y/n! Excuse me, not to be rude, but let me get to my friend before she passes out,” another woman, closer to your age, demands.

The first woman steps up almost chest to chest with San, shaking off the guard who attempted to grab her wrist and says, “Back off or I will make you. I don’t care how famous you are.”

Hongjoong considers the seriousness of the two women who demand to get closer to you. He noticed they also wear concert merchandise and seemed to know your name.

With a nod, Jongho and San move enough to allow them to rush to your side. The two soulmates turn back to the center and close the gap. The privacy of what is happening is imperative, and it gets more challenging as the gathering crowd grows.

Joining you, kneeling on the parking garage floor, the bonded males watch as the women murmur to you calmly. They sound like they are coaching your breathing.

After some time, the feisty one stands to look at the members of Ateez and the gathering crowd. Turning to Hongjoong, she says, “I don’t know what your attention is with Y/n, but remaining here will just make her worse.”

“I would agree. We need to talk to her, but I am afraid that she won’t hear what we are saying,” laments Hongjoong, his eyes never leaving your kneeled form, blanketed by the younger of the two friends.

One of the bodyguards steps away from the human barricade that has formed around the eleven of you and says, “Sir, we have access to the conference room at the hotel if you wish to move there.”

“Thank you.” Hongjoong breaks his gaze on your form to meet that of the more forceful, older, leader-like friend: “We are staying at the hotel right around the corner. Maybe we can all talk there; I am sure she will need someone familiar with her right now.”

“What about our flight?” questions the younger and current human-esque blanket friend.

“That’s right. She mentioned she had a flight to catch. Do you three not live here?” San questioned.

They are all holding their breath because this time is very delicate for the nine soulmates. Breaking the bond that started with San and Seonghwa would permanently disable them. For the others who haven’t, they will have a permanent, hollow feeling in their chest.

The leader-like friend answered, “Kat and I don’t live here anymore. We live in Oregon. Y/n lives here. We have a flight in about 4 hours to return home.”

“Excuse me, Miss.” Seonghwa politely gains the attention of the leader-like friend. “We really must speak with your friend. Our manager will help you change your flight, and I will personally cover any fees or additional costs if you would come with us. Please?”

The two friends share an unspoken conversation. Finally, the older one turns to address Seonghwa, “Fine. BUT! We are not doing this because of who you are. You are requesting this meeting. You are causing whatever is happening to Y/n to happen. You will fix it. Understood?”

Nodding with a smile, Seonghwa agrees, “Of course, Miss. We take full responsibility for anything that happens with Y/n moving forward.”

“How many cars did you come in, Miss?” asks Jongho.

Both friends point to the rental car just a few feet away. “We were already getting in the car when you surrounded our friend. My name is Cindy, by the way. That is Kat, my only child. Y/n has been a family friend and a second child to me for almost 15 years.”

“Thank you, Cindy and Kat. I promise we will explain everything in the conference room,” Seonghwa says with another toothy smile. “Can I ride with you to the hotel? I can show you where to park, or you can follow the vans.”

“Hwa…” Jongho says softly, knowing that his match will keep trying to pull you to a calming center and wear himself down doing so.

The eldest soulmate sends Jongho a pleading look. It’s a broken look filled with hope and desperation, almost palpable, to do something to strengthen the connection between himself and you. The youngest nods in understanding. Hwa has to do this, or it will break him apart.

Looking at the trio in the middle, Jongho continues, “Hwa is the best choice right now to accompany Y/n. It wouldn’t be wise to leave her unattended.”

Cindy’s eyes narrow at Jongho before she reluctantly says, “Fine. You can go with us,” she relents suspiciously, looking at Seonghwa. “It’s a small car. You will have to sit in the front.”

“It’s settled. Hwa will go with you. The rest of us will go in the van,” Hongjoong says, pointing to the blacked-out, large passenger van that has pulled up with two additional cars. “The guards will be in the cars. When you pull out, Miss Cindy, it would be a good idea to follow between our van and the last guard car.”

“You got it, Captain,” says Cindy.

The drive literally around the block feels like it takes way too fast, but at the same time, it takes forever. The distance between the van and the car is almost too much for San, but since he is surrounded by 6 of his bonded mates, he can handle it.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, tries his best to sit in the front seat while angling himself to at least see you the whole trip. He politely answers simple questions from Cindy without giving away too much information while you are still seemingly not present.

Once the boys make it to the hotel, all but San quickly move to the conference room.

Hongjoong speaks with security to ensure they have started to figure out options for when it's time to go to the venue. He needs to know that you will be safe when not in the sight of one of the soulmates.

Wooyoung and Yunho started gathering water and sweets for you because they remembered all the warnings they got when Mingi went on his hiatus. The sugar will keep you from dropping worse, and staying hydrated during this time is vital.

Mingi was forced into a chair despite his protests to help by Yeosang and Jongho. His limping from your injury has gotten worse, and they need both of you to stop hurting. Not only did watching the two of you in pain hurt their hearts, but it would affect their performance tonight.

San stayed in the garage, waiting for Cindy to park the car. Once he heard the engine cut, he ran to your side of the car and helped you out. You either didn’t seem to know it was him, or the feel of the bond was lending to your acceptance of his help.

Seonghwa quickly exited and joined San, walking you into the building and the conference room. Glancing back to make sure the two friends were following. At the door, they were greeted by Hongjoong, their manager, and the head of their bodyguards.

Turning to San, Cindy, and Kat, Hongjoong instructs, “Please make your way inside. The boys have set up some refreshments. Hwa and Cindy, I believe the two of you need to speak with manager-nim to figure out the flight situation, and then you can join us.”

Kat and San nod, then guide you into the conference room with Hongjoong in tow.

“Miss Cindy, this is our main manager,” Seonghwa introduces the man standing in a simple suit and then gestures to the man dressed as a classic bouncer. “and here is our head of security.”

“Hello, I am Cindy. The other person with the short hair is Kat, and we are close friends with y/n. I guess we need to discuss the flight with you,” Cindy points to the manager. “Is there something else?” she questions, looking at the bodyguard.

The guard says, “Firstly, meeting such a protective friend is a pleasure. There are so many fake friends in the world today. Y/n is lucky to have the two of you, and it will be our job to keep the three of you safe.”

“We are in danger?!?” Cindy’s eyes widen at the new information.

Shaking his hands in protest, Seonghwa explains, “It isn’t that you are in danger. The crowd in the parking garage followed us. Your pictures will be online and in the tabloids. KQ will do its best to keep them out. However, in the meantime, we would be remiss not to ensure you are not disturbed between now and when you reach home.”

“Oh,” Cindy says with a bit of unease. “Um… Thank you for the concern, but won’t bodyguards just draw more attention to us?”

“That is where Mathew comes in,” the head of security says, gesturing to someone. A few seconds later, there is a guy dressed in emo-looking clothes. He looks Asian but not simultaneously; his eyes are crystal blue, and he has an undercut hairstyle.

“Mathew is one of the few of our team that tracks with stealth and blending in. He will join your group of friends and pose as either a boyfriend, friend, or brother to Kat, as they are close in age,” informs the guard.

“Wow, um. Okay. Well, that would be for Kat to decide. If Kat is comfortable with it, so am I,” Cindy says with determination. Mathew nods and heads into the conference room to speak with Kat.

“Miss Cindy, thank you again for your adaptability during this time,” smiles Seonghwa genuinely, almost short-circuiting Cindy’s brain for a second.

“You gotta stop doing that for now,” warns Cindy, confusing Hwa and causing his manager to laugh. “I am the first Atiny of the group. I knew of your group before your debut and have been trying to see you in concert since then. You are not my bias, but still, it's overwhelming when you smile like that.”

Hwa’s eyes widen briefly with an ‘o’ of his lips before he smiles again, “Sorry, I will try not to smile too much. If I am not your bias, may I know who is?”

Cindy narrows her eyes at him, so he clarifies, “I can warn them to take it easy on you during the meeting for now, though I can’t promise once you are back home if any of us will. It seems to be a game for the younger ones to try and steal fans.”

“I see. Well, you don’t have to warn anyone right now. I know who I should avoid, and warning them will give me more ammo,” Cindy giggles.

“Seonghwa-ssi, Hongjoong-ssi said something about covering expenses?” interrupts the manager.

“Yes, Cindy and Kat will miss their flight home. I agreed to cover their change-of-flight expenses. I will also cover their meals, transportation to LAX, and their stay in the hotel tonight,” says Seonghwa with a voice that tells everyone there is no other option.

“Very well,” the manager says. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulls out a credit card and hands it to Cindy, “This is Seonghwa-ssi’s KQ expenses card. When you reach home, please return it to Mathew. If you two require anything between now and then, please purchase it with this card.”

“Seonghwa, you don’t have to. It’s fine. We can stay with relatives and take care of ourselves. Just helping with the tickets is sufficient,” Cindy says, taken back by the offer.

“It’s not that you can, Miss Cindy. It’s because I want to care for those who care for Y/n. It’s the least I can do in thanks to you being here,” pleads Seonghwa with almost puppy eyes.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you are hard to say no to?” questions Cindy with a smirk. Seonghwa laughs. “Fine. Thank you for the expense card. I will also save any receipts. Let me get you the flight information.”

Seeing that Cindy has finally agreed to everything, Seonghwa nods to both of them and enters the conference room. He sees that his bonded mates have sat to the far side of the room, allowing you to have unblocked access to the doors.

Kat is sitting at your side, having accepted cookies and water. Reaching out with his ability, Hwa can feel that you are calmer. Your skin has taken on a healthier hue. Your form also seems more relaxed as you converse quietly with your friend.

Hwa decides to walk over to the refreshment table to get water for himself and stand leaning against the wall. He wants to sit next to you. In all honesty, he wants you to sit in his lap but doesn’t want to crowd you like that.

It isn’t long before Cindy and the manager walk in and sit around the table. What shocks Hwa is Cindy’s choice to sit next to Kat and not on your other side. Cindy raises her eyebrow at Seonghwa and tilts her head towards the chair with a soft smile, which makes Hwa blush slightly.

Taking the hint, Seonghwa sits in the chair beside you, and the room becomes quiet. You look around the room, seemingly taking in everyone here– Ateez, the staff, and your friends, but you still say nothing.

��I guess I will start,” Hongjoong said, leaning forward in his seat at the head of the conference room. All eyes turned to him. “Miss Y/n, Miss Cindy, and Miss Kat, I am sure you know by now that we are Ateez, but many don’t know that we are a bonded soulmate group.”

“We each have abilities but haven’t gained our completion mark. About two years ago, we had all discussed that we most likely would never find all of our soulmates and become a complete bond. However, we know now that that isn’t the case,” informs Hongjoong as his eyes never stray from you.

You look at the captain like he should have more to say for a few moments before they watch you glance around the room again. Your emotions start to rise in trepidation. Seonghwa quickly looks between you and Jongho.

Jongho sees his companion’s movements and sends out a sense of calmness. To the rest of the soulmates, this feels like a blanket covering them in cool comfort.

“You…Okay… How…” you seem to be at a loss of words.

Kat shakes her head. Taking your hand, she speaks for you, asking, “Are you suggesting that Y/n is your missing soulmate?”

“Yes,” declares Hongjoong.

“Ladies,” Seonghwa starts. “We think you, y/n, are our missing soulmate for several reasons. It’s my fault that we didn’t connect with you sooner.”

Turning to face him, you interrupt, asking, “What do you mean sooner? What reasons? Why me? I am no one.”

“That won’t do,” speaks up Mingi with a growl. “You are not nor will you ever be a ‘no one,’ Y/n. Please do not speak of yourself so negatively. Let Hwa explain further; maybe you will understand what is happening.”

As you look down at your lap, everyone can see your cheeks have been painted rosy pink. Cindy and Kat find humor in your reaction to Mingi and snicker. If Hwa weren’t sitting next to you, he would have missed you smack Kat on the leg in protest.

Over the next almost hour, Seonghwa explains everything from the forming of Ateez to the events during their filming while in California for Coachella and ending with the concert. Another bonded mate would jump in to clarify or add information a few times.

“So once San could pin you at the museum, we couldn’t miss you again. It would have broken us more than we could ever explain,” finishes Hwa.

The boys sit and wait, watching as you take in the information. It worries them because you never reacted to anything they said during the whole spiel. They would look to Jongho a few times, who just shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t the one dampening your reaction.

Cindy shifts in her seat before she says, “I want to make things clear for you and Y/n.” Taking a deep breath, Cindy looks to y/n, who slightly nods, then focuses back on her lap, still quite like a mouse.

Excited to learn something about you, the soulmates lean into their bond. One thing is for sure– they weren’t prepared for what Cindy had to tell them.

He did, didn’t he?

He said he was Choi San.

Choi San wants to talk to you. Wait, no. He said the nine of us wanted to talk.

“I... ah… have a plane to catch,” you stumble out. Your mind is still considerate of your friends, who were like family to you. You watch as confusion graces the mountain of a man in front of you.

A voice to your right asks, “You’re going on vacation now? Or going home?”

Following the voice, you look to see who it is, and with a whisper, you say, “Choi Jongho.”

When you recognize the youngest member of Ateez, a smile graces his face as he introduces himself: “Yes, sorry. I am Choi Jongho. It’s nice to meet you.”

You nod with wide eyes as your hands start to shake.

This isn’t real.

There is no way.

Looking to the left, you see none other than Kang Yeosang. You cannot believe how cute he is up close. You giggle to yourself, thinking of all the Tic Toks of Yeosang saying, ‘I’m not cute,’ flutter through your brain because nothing right now is making sense.

Words are not coming.

You think you are going crazy as the delulu is finally manifesting in hallucinations now.

Breathing is happening because it is autonomic.

“Oh good! You found her Sannie,” another voice joins as you look past Yeosang to see the twerk prince himself, Jung Wooyoung.

When he gets closer, you are enveloped with the scent you smelled in the Grammy Museum. “Christmas,” you murmur just above a whisper.

The playful member smiles broadly and bounces in place, “So you did catch my scent, pretty.”

“If she caught yours, then she must have felt my anchors,” the tallest man you have seen in a long time speaks up while holding his “twin.”

At this point, your breathing has turned shallow. Unconsciously, your body starts leaning into the body behind you. You are not trying to run, but your mind and body are unsure of what is happening, what to do, and what to say.

All you know is that you would be on the floor without the man at your back. Speaking of the man at your back, you shift slightly to get a better look at him, and it’s like the world stops.

That is Park Seonghwa… like THE Park Seonghwa. Mars. Hwaseong. Angry Bird. Mama Hwa.

Your bias.

The one where you have an unhealthy amount of concert photos focused on the handsome beauty from the concert less than 24 hours before.

“She hasn’t recognized us yet. I can’t help her. Hongjoong, I can’t,” Seonghwa says with a hint of desperation. His hands grip your arms, thumbs rubbing in circles across your bare skin, pulling you close.

It’s like the sea parts when San and Yeosang break the inner circle that has formed around you to allow Kim Hongjoong to join you in the center. His eyes are roaming your form. It’s like he is not looking at you but into you, at the who of who you are.

It’s an uncanny feeling that you start getting dizzy from.

“Do you know who I am?” questions the leader.

“Captain,” you answer with a shaky tone.

His eyes narrow as a smirk shows, “That is one of the many names Atiny uses, and it is my title. However, my soulmates don’t use that name unless we are in front of a camera. I am Kim Hongjoong, the second oldest of the Ateez soulmate bond.”

You swallow and rapidly look at the rest of the members. They each agree with nods or hums. This is new information for you. You, after all, are a new stan of Ateez, a baby Atiny, and figured there was so much that you didn’t know.

“Soulmate bond? A whole group bond?” you question, feeling your skin vibrate. To begin with, soulmate bonds were challenging to find, but having a group bond to this extent was rare.

Nodding, Hongjoong answers, “The group of us, yes, but I wouldn’t say we are whole yet. Boys…” It’s then that everyone is looking back on you.

You hear the song start back up in your head from before it takes over all other mental tabs you had open.

The scent of Christmas trees becomes a whole forest, almost too much.

The thick rope around your chest is back and tighter, pulling you to the left, but you struggle against it.

The panic ebbs and wanes within you like a riptide.

“No. No, nonononoo,” you say, pulling away from Seonghwa, causing the boys to step back out of reflex. Everything stops. Silence rings in your ears, all scent has vanished, and nothing is holding you to yourself, much less to Earth anymore.

Dropping to your knees, you mumble, “Something is wrong… must be dreaming.”

“Y/n!” a familiar female voice comes from somewhere. Your ears pop as your brain kicks back online, and the natural environment around you floods in. It’s too much all at once but not enough of what you need.

What is it that you need, though? Something is missing again. You paw at the ground, almost like you are looking for something or ensuring Earth is still below you. Your breathing rapidly increases as your vision starts to fade in and out.

You are having a panic attack.

Again.

The first panic attack you ever had was why you missed going to Coachella. You ate lunch at this little hole-in-the-wall diner you loved, but it made you sick. Then, the rest of that week, any time you went near it, it was like your body remembered being sick and would kick you into a panic attack like you had PTSD or something. So you avoided it altogether, which wasn’t hard because the area was shut off for filming.

During the first Coachella weekend, you still had a headache from everything. Your doctors also suggested avoiding large crowds or anything non-routine for a bit. You still were getting symptoms like hyperventilating, getting dizzy, and having chest pains. You swore it was like your insides were hollowing out. You ended up in the ER, and they said it was just a panic attack.

You had to deny helping with Coachella the second weekend, even with the bonus pay, because you were scared you would be more in the way than helpful, especially with this new panic attack issue. The medications they gave you weren’t helping much either.

“Y/n! Excuse me, not to be rude, but let me get to my friend before she passes out,” you hear another voice, but everything sounds like you are underwater.

The first voice sounds closer, saying, “Back off, or I will make you. I don’t care how famous you are.”

Joining you, kneeling on the parking garage floor, Cindy and Kat take their time speaking to you calmly. They coach you into breathing exercises, bringing you slowly out of the dark pit you had started to spiral into. Both knew about the panic attacks, and Kat had them as well. Kat was a fantastic source of advice when you first got the diagnosis.

Seeing that you were improving, Cindy stood and looked at the members of Ateez plus the gathering crowd. Turning to Hongjoong, she says, “I don’t know what your intention is with Y/n, but remaining here will just make her worse.”

“I would agree. We need to talk to her, but I am afraid that she won’t hear what we are saying in her current state of mind,” says Hongjoong, his eyes never leaving you.

One of the men dressed in all-black suits steps away from the human barricade that has formed around the eleven of you and says, “Sir, we have access to the conference room at the hotel if you wish to move there.”

“Thank you.” Hongjoong breaks his gaze on you to talk to Cindy, offering, “We are staying at the hotel right around the corner. Maybe we can all talk there; I am sure she will need someone familiar with her right now.”

“What about our flight?” questions Kat, still grounding you in their arms.

“That’s right. She mentioned she had a flight to catch. Do you three not live here?” San questioned.

The feisty friend answered, “Kat and I don’t live here anymore. We live in Oregon. Y/n lives here. We have a flight in about 4 hours to return home.”

“Excuse me, Miss.” Seonghwa politely gains Cindy’s attention. “We really must speak with your friend. Our manager will help you change your flight, and I will personally cover any fees or additional costs if you would come with us. Please?”

Cindy and Kat share an unspoken conversation. Finally, Cindy turns to Seonghwa, “Fine. BUT! We are not doing this because of who you are. You are requesting this meeting. You are causing whatever is happening to Y/n to happen. You will fix it. Understood?”

Nodding and smiling, Seonghwa agrees, “Of course, Miss. We take full responsibility for anything that happens with Y/n moving forward.”

“How many cars did you come in, Miss?” asks Jongho.

They point out the rental car just a few feet away. “We were already getting in the car when you surrounded our friend. My name is Cindy, by the way. That is Kat, my only child. Y/n has been a family friend and a second child to me for almost 15 years.”

“Thank you, Miss Cindy and Miss Kat. I promise we will explain everything in the conference room,” Seonghwa says with another toothy smile. “Can I ride with you to the hotel? I can show you where to park, or you can follow the vans.”

“Hwa…” Jongho says softly but seems to stop at the pleading look he gets from Seonghwa. “Hwa is the best choice right now to accompany Y/n. It wouldn’t be wise to leave her unattended.”

Cindy’s eyes narrow at the choice of wording. Her mind is trying to piece together what is going on. “Fine. You can go with us,” she relents suspiciously, looking at Seonghwa. “It’s a small car. You will have to sit in the front.”

“It’s settled. Hwa will go with you. The rest of us will go in the van,” Hongjoong says, pointing to the blacked-out vehicles. “The guards will be in the cars. When you pull out, Miss Cindy, it would be a good idea to follow between our van and the last guard car.”

“You got it, Captain,” says Cindy.

With a hovering Seonghwa, Kat helps you stand and takes you to the car. She tries to get you to laugh by telling you that MamaHwa is looking at her with puppy eyes. You can only concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other right now.

Once in the car, you still feel a softer pull on your chest. It is nowhere near what it was before or while Ateez surrounded you, but it was still there.

Kat sits as a quiet reminder that this is real. You keep your eyes downcast because you can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on you, and you are nervous about looking at him.

On the other hand, Cindy can’t stand the tension in the car. “So Seonghwa, you have connected to her, haven’t you?”

Not looking away from you, he answers, “You could say that, but I would prefer to discuss that with everyone together.”

“You still have a concert tonight. This meeting is going to have to be a quick one. I am not sure she will be able to process everything as quickly as you want her to,” comments Cindy. “She keeps herself guarded. I guess it is good that there are eight of you then.”

“We will all be there for her. As I said before, she is our responsibility from now on,” says the man sitting in the front seat, as if the world had just given him a significant gift wrapped in the most complex box he had ever seen.

Soon, you feel the car stop moving, automatically prompting you to unbuckle your seatbelt. Your door opens before you can get it, and a hand appears. You glance up to see that it is San. You feel your body want to move to him, almost as if he was a magnet.

You hear your mom in your head say, “Following your instincts, Y/n. It is your greatest gift.” With this in mind, you place your hand in his. The second you connect with him, the song in your head becomes clearer but softens, granting your mind a chance to relax.

Once out of the car, you look around, noting that everyone else has also gotten out, and Seonghwa is now standing next to you. The two men walk you into the building and guide the small group to the conference room.

At the door, they were greeted by Hongjoong, their manager, and the head of their bodyguards. Seeing the leader again sends shivers down your spine, but nothing happens.

Hongjoong instructs, “Please make your way inside. The boys have set up some refreshments. Hwa and Cindy, I believe the two of you need to speak with manager-nim to figure out the flight situation, and then you can join us.”

When you enter the small conference room with Kat, San, and Hongjoong, the feeling in your chest almost completely disappears. You can’t help but smile a little at the looks of anticipation and worry that grace the faces of one of the most popular K-pop groups you have ever known.

“You can go ahead and sit here,” offers Yunho as he pulls out the chair in front of you. “We figured it may be the most comfortable spot for you. Your friends can sit next to you as well.”

You nod and smile at their consideration of not trapping you in the room. They don’t know that you aren’t one to run when you freak out, but their actions bring their own sense of security and trust.

A water bottle appears next to you as someone opens it and sets it down. Looking up, you see Wooyoung smiling, “Please drink some water. We also have cookies, candies, and brownies for you to eat, or we can order anything you like.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I could go for a cookie. Anything without oats or cocoa, please.”

Hongjoong is the closest to the platter of cookies and plates up two peanut butter, two white chocolate chip macadamia nuts, and two Snickerdoodle cookies. He brings them over with napkins and places them between you and Kat.

“I put two of everything on the plate for you and Kat. These are all the non-cocoa-based cookies over there. I hope there is something you like in the bunch,” he says.

You glance at Kat, who is smiling from ear to ear because their bias just served them cookies. You shake your head, grab a white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie, and start eating it as someone else walks in and takes up a corner to lean against.

Kat giggles and tells the man of their K-pop dreams: “For someone who knows nothing about Y/n, you sure know how to find her favorites.”

Kat then took one of the peanut butter ones to eat, and Hongjoong smirked with confidence and sat at the head of the table.

Leaning towards Kat, you ask, “Where is Cindy and Seonghwa?”

“They are outside dealing with the flight situation,” informs Kat, leaning closer to you. “How are you doing?”

“I feel like I entered a Twilight Zone episode,” you breathe out, taking another bite of the cookie and glancing at the men in the room. Some of them catch your eyes while they are talking amongst themselves. “This is real, right?”

“Umhumm, you have the dream of almost every Atiny in the world. You have caught the attention of Ateez,” smirks Kat.

“I don’t want Ateez's attention,” you whisper. “I will bring them nothing good.”

Kat stares at you, “Y/n. Be real yourself right now. Just wait to see what they have to say.”

You go to respond but hear the door of the conference room open, and Seonghwa enters, walking to the table with the snacks. What surprises you is the fact that he stays there. You look at Kat with furrowed brows and then back at Seonghwa.

“Why is he over there?” you question in hushed tones. It was really meant just to be for yourself, but loud enough, Kat hears and chokes a little on their water.

“Is someone getting attached to their bias?” says Kat teasingly.

“Oh, hush you,” you try not to blush at the comment. “He wouldn’t stop looking at me in the car and, well, you were there! Why the distance now?”

“Don’ know, maybe he is giving the others a chance to get close,” suggests Kat.

It isn’t long before Cindy and the manager walk in and sit around the table. Cindy sits next to Kat, and the manager sits next to Hongjoong. Once the room starts to settle, Seonghwa sits in the chair beside you, and the room becomes quiet.

You look around the room, seemingly taking in everyone here– Ateez, the staff, and your friends, but you still say nothing.

“I guess I will start.” Hongjoong leans forward as all eyes turn to him. “Miss Y/n, Miss Cindy, and Miss Kat, I am sure you know by now that we are Ateez, but many don’t know that we are a bonded soulmate group.”

You look at the captain like he should have more to say for a few moments before you glance around the room again, waiting for someone else to chime in. Your mind is reeling with several possibilities and a barrage of negative conclusions.

You are on the verge of spiraling again when it feels like a blanket of comfort covers you. It’s a coolness to your skin but a stillness of your mind that you can’t help leaning into.

“You…Okay… How…” you attempt to say, but you are at a loss. You have questions to ask and things to say that all want to come out at once, but you can’t seem to organize them in a way that makes sense.

Taking your hand, Kat shakes her head, asking, “Are you suggesting that Y/n is your missing soulmate?”

“Yes,” declares Hongjoong.

Your heart shudders at the declaration. There has to be something else. There has to be another thing it could be. You glance at Kat as they give you that look again, the one that says to wait and see what they have to say.

“Ladies,” Seonghwa starts. “We think you, y/n, are our missing soulmate for several reasons. It’s my fault that we didn’t connect with you sooner.”

You turn to face him. Your thoughts finally in an order you interrupt, asking, “What do you mean sooner? What reasons? Why me? I am no one.”

“That won’t do,” Mingi's deep voice says. “You are not nor will you ever be a ‘no one,’ Y/n. Please do not speak of yourself so negatively. Let Hwa explain further; maybe you will understand what is happening.”

Feeling like you just got scolded by one of the hottest rappers in the world, you look down at your lap, attempting to hide the blush from the room. It isn’t the first time you have been told that you do not hold yourself in a good light, but hearing it from him brings on a new form of embarrassment.

Cindy and Kat start snickering at your reaction to Mingi, and you smack Kat on the leg in protest. They know of your newfound attraction to the second-tallest member and are seemingly more at ease with this situation than you are.

“So once San could pin you at the museum, we couldn’t miss you again. It would have broken us more than we could ever explain,” finishes Hwa.

You force yourself not to react to anything they say or interrupt during the whole spiel. About halfway through the information dump, the blanket pulls away, but you can maintain yourself just fine.

You have put together that your panic attacks started because you almost met Seonghwa at the hole-in-the-wall diner. Then you had the chance to meet them all at Coachella twice. You also could have met them walking around town while they were filming. So many missed chances to meet them.

Cindy shifts in her seat before she says, “I want to make things clear for you and Y/n.” Taking a deep breath, Cindy looks at you. You know what she wants to say, and she isn’t wrong to tell them because if they don’t hear it now, then they won’t understand.

You hesitantly nod, then focus back on your lap, remaining quiet as you prepare your mind for rejection, yelling, coarse words, and any other harsh reaction they had every right to have. You didn’t see the looks of anticipation on their faces.

Kat takes your hands in theirs and nods to Cindy, knowing the next part of the meeting won’t be easy.

With a serious look, Cindy meets each of their eyes before she stops at Seonghwa and says, “Y/n…Y/n’s soulmate was murdered June 15, 2016– on her 18th birthday.”

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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Hello, could I order a Targaryen Dareon x Reader Velaryon They are ex lovers She did not speak to him again after Lucerys' death. She even married Jacerys without loving him, but she did so for his dever. But Dareon still Loves her but he can't just give up. Reader is a warrior personally trained by Raenys and has Canival, a dragon that should never have been tamed, capable of hurting the enemy Vhegar. He would probably be able to kill her if she didn't retreat. reader invades his thoughts he misses her his kisses his hands his body He knows that even if she gets hurt, she will put duty over love. how to stop someone like that who is not afraid to give his life for what he believes

Scorched Hearts

- Summary: You meet Daeron after years of silence.

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Daeron Targaryen

- Note: The reader is only daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor and is bonded with Cannibal. For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. I hope this was what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The air is filled with smoke and the acrid stench of blood. The shrill cries of the dying echo through the battlefield as you soar above it all, atop Cannibal, the ferocious black dragon, your bond with him forged in fire and fury. You look down at the chaos below, your eyes cold and hardened from years of war. This is no longer the realm of nobles and courtiers; this is the battlefield, where only the strong survive.

Tumbleton is aflame. It’s a trap, you know it. The Greens had been waiting for you, baiting you with fire and screams to draw you into this mess. They knew you’d come—knew you could never resist the call of battle, the call of vengeance. Cannibal growls beneath you, his enormous wings cutting through the air, his rage mirroring your own. You tighten your grip on the reins, your jaw clenched in grim determination.

The army swells below, but you're not afraid. You've faced worse odds. You’ve trained with your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, herself a warrior and dragonrider. You’ve battled Aemond and Vhagar, forced them to retreat. But the past weighs heavily on you, the wounds that have never quite healed. Lucerys... The memory of your brother’s broken body flashes through your mind like lightning. His death had been a turning point for you, the moment you had truly hardened, cutting ties with the part of you that dared to love.

Including Daeron.

The thought of him stirs something deep within you, a flicker of something long-buried. Daeron Targaryen. The ex-lover who still haunted your dreams despite all the years of silence. You never spoke to him after Luke’s death. You couldn’t. Not after everything.

But there’s no time to think of him now. Not when you have a battle to win.

Cannibal lets out a roar that shakes the very air around you as you dive, flames scorching the earth beneath you. Enemy soldiers scatter, their green banners fluttering in the chaos. The Greens are like ants beneath you, but you see it too late—the trap.

Spears launch from the ground, ropes suddenly tangling around Cannibal’s wings, pulling taut. The dragon roars in fury, thrashing, but it’s no use. You feel the jerk as the nets tighten, dragging Cannibal down. You curse under your breath, feeling the inevitable pull of gravity. You’ve been caught, the Greens had planned this.

Before you can react, Cannibal crashes to the ground, shaking the earth beneath you. You’re thrown from his back, landing hard on the ground, your sword clattering from your grasp. Groaning, you try to push yourself up, but rough hands grab you, dragging you across the battlefield. You struggle, kicking, but the soldiers are many, and your body is bruised from the fall. You can feel the cold steel of chains being brought toward you, hear the laughter of your captors.

And then, suddenly, everything changes.

The ground trembles beneath you, a shadow sweeping over the battlefield as another dragon descends. You know that dragon—Tessarion. You don’t have to see him to know it’s him. The blue scales gleam in the dim light, and your heart clenches in your chest.

Daeron.

You look up, breath catching in your throat as he lands in front of you, dismounting with swift grace. His white hair is tousled from the wind, his violet eyes blazing with fury. He shouts, barking orders at the soldiers dragging you.

"Let her go!" His voice is a whip crack, commanding, cold.

The soldiers hesitate for a moment, unsure, but his gaze burns into them. They release you, backing away as if they’ve been scorched. You scramble to your feet, breathing heavily, staring at him—this man who you once loved, this man who still makes your heart ache despite everything.

Daeron steps toward you, his face a mask of fury. "What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing, treating her like this?" His voice is low, dangerous, as he turns his wrath on the soldiers. "If any of you ever touch her again, I will feed you to Tessarion myself."

They scurry away, leaving the two of you alone on the blood-soaked battlefield.

You meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. It’s the first time in years you’ve been this close to him, and the air between you is thick with all the things left unsaid. His eyes, those familiar eyes, search your face, and for a moment, he looks like the man you once knew. The one you had loved so fiercely.

"Y/N," he murmurs, and his voice is softer now, almost pleading. He steps closer, reaching out as if to touch you, but then he stops, his hand dropping to his side. "I thought you were dead."

You don’t know what to say. Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, all the pain and anger you’ve buried threatens to rise to the surface. You try to shove it down, try to remind yourself of why you left him behind. Why you married your brother Jaehaerys out of duty, not love. Why you chose to forget the way Daeron’s kisses felt, the way his hands moved over your skin, the intimate moments you shared beneath the stars.

But standing here, facing him now, all of that seems impossible to forget.

"You shouldn’t have come," you say, your voice rough with emotion. "You should’ve let them chain me."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Do you think I could stand by and let them hurt you? After everything?" His eyes lock onto yours, filled with something raw and unspoken. "I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not for a single day."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take a step back, your chest tightening. You want to deny it, to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that too much has happened. But the truth is, you feel it too—the pull, the undeniable connection between you.

"You should have stopped," you say quietly, your voice trembling. "We’re on opposite sides of this war now, Daeron. There's no place for what we were."

He steps closer, his voice a whisper now, filled with longing and regret. "We could’ve been more, Y/N. We were more once. And I would’ve given anything to have you back."

You shake your head, your throat tight. "Lucerys is dead. My brother is dead, and I can’t—" Your voice breaks, and you turn your head away, unable to look at him. The weight of everything—the war, the loss, the love that never died—presses down on you, threatening to crush you.

Daeron’s hand finds your arm, gently turning you back to face him. "I know," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m still here. And I still love you."

The world seems to fall away, the sounds of the battle fading into the background as you look at him. His face, etched with years of pain and longing, is so achingly familiar. You remember his touch, the way his lips felt against yours. You remember the nights spent in each other’s arms, before the war tore everything apart.

For the first time in years, you feel the urge to close the distance between you, to let yourself remember what it felt like to love him.

But you can’t. Not now. Not here.

"I can’t," you whisper, stepping away from him, the weight of duty pulling you back. "I’m not yours anymore, Daeron."

His eyes darken with sorrow, but he doesn’t move to stop you. Instead, he watches as you turn away, his heart breaking all over again.

And as you mount Cannibal, his roar filling the sky, you feel the ache of what could have been, of a love lost to time and war.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #hotd x female reader #hotd daeron #daeron targaryen #daeron x reader #daeron the daring #daeron x you #daeron x y/n

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safination · 9 months ago

Text

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“ . . . Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “ . . . Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“ My dearest good doctor, ” Egg Boi #04 reads. “ What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh . . . yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything ,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note ,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right . . .” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as you turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, lest you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor . . .,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We invite my . . . dad .”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “ the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh . . . So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table, deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘ Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“ Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years . . . his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘ longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois . They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois .”

“Egg Boys .”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump.

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up . . . er . . . interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’ . Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God . . .

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

“The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh . . . hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm . . . he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk? There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No . . . not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say . . . light treasure hunting . . . ?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh . . . his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of . . . let’s say, mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like . . . the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story . . . Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh . . . ” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps. A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why . . . why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I . . . I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

“Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think . . . ” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . .” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“ Motherfucker! ” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firmly against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“ . . . No.”

“Then settle down, Husker ,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still . . . or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “ Bitch. ”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “ Virgin. ”

“I am not . . .grandma. ” Husk’s fangs show when he growls.

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties . . . or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot . . . or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes ?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected .”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you . . . do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“ What does that even mean ?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I . . . have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh . . . and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha! ”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’ .

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh . . . I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly. “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“ Husband? ” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “ Pause ,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“ I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh . . . Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well . . . no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just . . . I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why . . . ?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why . . . ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean . . . I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything .”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wipe it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Willd double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs.

Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs. (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This . . . .” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh . . . that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait . . . ,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You . . . you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

”Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you. That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes . . . ?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer.

Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass.

Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we , my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment.

Someone pounds on the door.

You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“ MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops . . . ?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room . . . Huh , that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw.

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows.

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out. “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully , with a grin.

“Mimzy . . . ” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “ . . . Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh . . .

Another song.

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

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As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—it doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he says, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“ Doting husband ?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close . . . just . . . one . . . second . . .

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems . . . It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride . . . his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead. “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘ glorious’ . People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh . . . I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just . . . trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

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Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

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