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justsomerandomfanfic · 3 months ago

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Whiskey, Neat - Dean Winchester X Female Reader

Title: Whiskey, Neat

Dean Winchester X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Sam, Larry (OC), vamps (Mentioned), and a random woman (OC) (Mentioned)

WC: 4,236

Warnings: Bars, alcohol, cursing, italics, very brief mentions of smoking (not by the Reader or Dean), Supernatural canon violence mentioned very briefly, teasing, banter, flirting, kind of love at first sight, nicknames, slight angst, confession, and fluff

The neon sign outside the bar was broken, causing the name "Florance" to flicker on and off. One moment, it was dark; the next, it glowed a deep red. However, the "L" and "O" were completely burnt out, leaving the sign to flash “France.” The outside of the bar wasn’t that bad. It looked like any run-of-the-mill bar on the side of Route 66. It was a good size, somewhat dingy, and definitely could use some love and renovation.

It was also noticeably loud - as were all bars, really - it only made sense. The chatter and drunken laughter were clear and easy to hear from a good couple of feet from the door. And the smell of smoke was quite noticeable as well; from the two biker men standing off to the side by their bikes.

Even though the place was crappy, for lack of a better word, Dean had walked into far worse.

Mmm, maybe not far worse, but he’d been in worse bars than this one.

Walking in, the immediate scent of beer, aged whiskey, and smoke filled the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and the distant crackle of a jukebox. Dean tried to see what song was playing, but, again, it was difficult due to how loud the place was. He did take notice of the two pool tables, and three dart boards, so that was definitely a plus. But, the place was mighty crowded. Who knew that this run-down bar next to the highway of Route 66 was so popular. But, when Dean made his way to the bar, he spotted a possible reason; one that wasn’t the possible cheap beer and free pool games.

You stood behind the bar. Dean watched as you effortlessly juggled orders with ease, your skill showing him that you had been doing this for years. Two beers for the man in the corner, a couple of shots for the group to the side - your hands moved with practiced precision, every motion smooth, every pour perfect. And through it all, you smiled, not just out of habit or to be polite but with a warmth that lit up the room.

Damn, you were stunning.

It didn’t take very long for Dean to snap out of his staring and realize that he was still standing near the door.

Slipping onto an empty bar stool, Dean didn’t have to wait long for you to slide over. Rag in hand, you tilted your head to the side slightly, giving him your full attention.

“Something catch your eye?�� You teased, the corners of your lips curling up into a playful smile. Dean furrowed his eyebrows, momentarily confused, only for you to continue, your eyebrow raising as you gave him a knowing look. “I noticed you staring when you walked in.

He blinked, caught off guard, a flush creeping up his neck. For a split second, he looked embarrassed. Completely out of character for the usually confident Winchester. But that didn’t last very long. A smirk appeared, his charm taking over.

“You’re observant,” He said, leaning in slightly.

You nodded, unfazed, “Part of the job.” You replied smoothly, your hands moving to wipe down the counter as you spoke.

Dean’s gaze followed your movements, “I bet you catch all sorts of things, huh?”

You glanced over at Larry, a regular two bar stools down, who was just finishing his first drink. “If I were really observant,” You began, “I’d get Larry another drink before he starts complaining about the service.” Without missing a beat, you turned and poured Larry another glass of his usual, placing the drink in front of him with a smile. Once Larry was happily sipping his drink, you turned back to Dean, “So,” You tilted your head again, “What would you like to drink, handsome?”

Dean’s grin widened, “Whiskey. Neat.”

You gave him a sly smile, moving to grab the bottle. “Coming right up.”

~~~

Well, after the first visit, and the second, Dean couldn’t stay away. Maybe you really were the reason why the place was so popular. Or really, it was because it was the only bar in a ten mile radius from the closest highway exit. Or maybe it was you…

Whatever it was, Dean would come back. He didn’t care if it was an extra thirty minutes from the new motel he and Sam were staying in, he wanted to see you. And, really, the alcohol wasn’t too bad either.

And poor Sam? Well, he had tried to tag along the first night, and even the second, but on the third night, when Dean grabbed his keys with a casual “Heading out,” Sam barely looked up from his laptop.

He just sighed and muttered, “Dude, it’s your third night in a row. Just admit you like the bartender and spare me the excuses.”

Dean, of course, ignored him - though he kind of regretted ever mentioning you to Sam in the first place. Now the kid wouldn’t let it go.

So, here he was again, back in what was quickly becoming his seat, nursing a glass of whiskey - neat, of course - that you gave him.

It was his first, and he had been there for at least an hour, he would have to guess. But, he didn’t want to drink it too fast. He liked spending time with you, even if he was kind of fighting multiple people for your attention. You’d run to one side of the bar to hand out a drink there, or off to the other side to grab an order to make, but you’d always come back to him when you weren’t busy.

That had to count for something, right? He must’ve been doing something right for you to want to spend your time with him, even when you had other people to serve.

He even turned down a woman. She was pretty, yeah, with long curls and a cute figure, but he politely turned her down. After all, he was actively talking to you. And so, you watched as she pouted, throwing him one last lingering glance before she walked away.

Turning back, you gave Dean a somewhat awkward grin, gesturing toward the woman with a tilt of your chin. “She seemed like she liked you.” You commented, tone slightly teasing.

Dean sighed, a playful roll of his eyes accompanying the motion as he took another sip of his drink. “She ain’t my type.” He gave you a half-grin. “You know, I’m here for the drinks… And, well… The company.”

Your lips widened slightly, “Lucky for you, I’ve got both.” You surveyed him, “However I charge extra for my company.”

He chuckled as he leaned in a little, his eyes never leaving yours as he did so. “So, what about the last couple of days? I didn’t get hit with any extra charges. I’m startin' to think I’m special or somethin'.”

You shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, keeping the smile playful but casual. "Oh, you’re not special," You teased back, leaning on the bar, "I just give new customers free therapy for the first three days. Starting now, I’m charging you extra.”

Dean shook his head, chuckling as he took another slow sip of his whiskey.

Later into the night, the bar had quieted down quite a bit. The usual chatter died away, and most of the customers had filtered out, leaving only Dean sitting at his place at the bar. The dim lighting and empty stools around him gave the place a more intimate feel. You were still behind the counter, wiping down the already clean surface out of habit, but the real work had long since stopped.

“So,” You began, “Tell me, Winchester," You said, your voice light and curious. "What is your type?" Dean hummed in response, not immediately catching on. You repeated the question, "If that woman wasn't your type, then who is?" You rested your elbow on the counter, letting your cheek settle in your hand as you looked at him with genuine interest. "What kind of person calls to the great Dean Winchester?"

Dean paused, his glass halfway to his lips, the corner of his lips forming a smirk, “Why the sudden interest in my type?”

You rolled your eyes, “You can’t blame a girl for being curious,” You replied playfully, leaning in slightly, your gaze steady.

Dean chuckled, setting his glass down slowly as he met your eyes. For a moment, he seemed to weigh his words, as if choosing his answer carefully.

“Well,” He began, his voice low and confident, “Someone who doesn’t put up with my bullshit, can keep up with me when the shit hits the fan, and… Isn’t afraid to call me out when I’m being an ass.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing as you waited for him to continue, your hand still resting on your cheek. "And what about you, sweetheart?" He added instead of continuing on, his gaze narrowing slightly, "What’s your type?"

You pursed your lips, feigning deep thought as you pushed back against the counter with your hands, looking to the side for a moment as if considering his question seriously. After a beat, you looked back at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Someone who can handle their whiskey,” You said with a shrug, your sly grin reappearing, “Oh, and a good sense of humor helps, too.” Dean raised an eyebrow at your words, a cocky grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as you handed him his receipt and his card. “See you tomorrow, handsome?” You asked, voice light, hopeful.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. As he walked, he glanced down at the receipt, quickly noticing something. You hadn’t charged him extra for your company. He knew that you were just teasing about your company costing extra, but as he turned around to ask about it, he was delighted by your answer.

“I take it back,” You called out to him as you met his gaze with a smirk, shrugging casually. “Maybe you are special.”

~~~

You grabbed a bottle from the shelf, pouring a drink for one of the regulars before sliding it across the bar with an easy flick of your wrist. And while you went on about your night as you usually did - a drink here, and a refill on the peanut bowl there - your mind was thinking about something else. Someone else.

Dean Winchester.

It was ridiculous, really. He’s only been coming around for three nights, but somehow, you found yourself expecting him now. Looking toward the door every so often, wondering when he was going to strut on in.

You couldn’t ignore the way your heart beat would kick up a bit whenever he walked in through the door, or the way that your eyes were so drawn to him. The way that he would lean against the bar before sitting down, all easy confidence and charm, flashing that damn smirk of his that made your stomach fill with what you assumed were those butterflies that people talk about.

You liked how he talked to you. Not just in that flirtatious, cocky way he spoke, but your conversations felt so real with him. He wasn’t like most men that walked into your bar. He listened to what you had to say. He didn’t ignore you or brush your words off. He listened; he cared.

And those green eyes of his? Yeah, those were dangerous. Warm when he laughed, sharp when he was thinking, and downright hypnotic when they locked on yours.

You wiped down the counter absentmindedly, forcing yourself to focus. Heaven forbid if you messed up on a drink order all because you were thinking about him. It was just some harmless attraction. You had met plenty of good-looking guys before - ones who flirted, ones who smirked, ones who lingered at the bar for just a little too long.

But Dean… He wasn’t like them. He was different.

There was just something about him… Like you’d told yourself before, he actually seemed to care. And on top of that, he made you laugh - not the polite, forced kind, but the real, unexpected kind that snuck up on you.

And damn it, you were starting to crave that more than you should - his attention, his humor, the way he made you feel like you were the only one in the room. It was starting to feel dangerous.

Like those eyes of his…

The bell over the door jingled.

Your heart skipped before you could stop it.

And there he was.

Despite yourself, you smiled as Dean walked in, but it faltered when he took his seat. His usual confident swagger was subdued, and his expression was almost… Serious. Disappointed, maybe? The shift in his demeanor made your stomach twist slightly, curiosity bubbled up. What was up with him tonight?

“Hey, handsome,” You began softly, your voice carrying just enough over the noise of the bar to reach him. “Fella done you wrong?”

Dean tried to flash you a grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nah,” He chuckled, though there was a faint sadness to the sound. “Nothin' like that.”

You hummed, tilting your head slightly as you set the whiskey glass in front of him. There was a quiet sympathy in your gaze as you filled the glass, careful with your movements. “If you want,” You offered, leaning against the counter, “You can tell me what’s on your mind. Might help.”

Dean took a large sip of his drink, his fingers gripping the glass tightly for a moment, his tongue brushing his bottom lip as he considered you. When his gaze finally met yours, there was something a little heavier in his eyes. “Tomorrow’s my last day in town.” He said, his voice low, almost reluctant to admit it.

Your soft smile dropped at his words. “Oh.” You said simply, a huge wave of disappointment that matched his washing over you.

Dean had told you that he and his brother weren’t local, and it was obvious that they weren’t. And Dean had told you that he and his brother traveled for work. They weren’t in the same place for very long. So you knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to leave, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt any less.

“Where are- where are you heading to now?” You asked, pausing to clear your throat as you quickly poured another customer a drink, your eyes leaving Dean’s momentarily.

“Oregon,” He replied, his voice carrying some weight to it. You nodded, trying to keep your composure, before returning your attention to him as you finished fixing a drink.

“That sounds exciting,” You said, hoping to lighten the mood a bit, “Bigfoot lives there.” You then leaned forward, your eyes lighting up, “Do you believe in Bigfoot?”

Dean paused for a moment, his fingers tapping the rim of his glass as he thought it over. He then shook his head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Nah. The only Sasquatch I believe in is my brother. The guy’s like seven feet.”

The joke caught you off guard, and before you could stop yourself, you burst out laughing, your shoulders shaking as you covered your mouth with your hand.

When your laugh finally faded, you wiped a stray tear from the corner of your eyes, still smiling. “Sorry, that was good,” You said, shaking your head, “Is your brother really that tall?”

“Mmm,” Dean pursed his lips, “More or less.” There was a slight pause before Dean leaned forward, his arms resting on the counter. “I gotta tell you somethin', though,” He said, “You look beautiful tonight.” He added “I figured I’d say it now, before I leave. Been wanting to tell you since I first saw you.”

You froze for a moment, before slowly, a sheepish smile appeared, your stomach once more fluttering. “God, Dean,” You sighed out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, feeling rather flustered from the sudden compliment. Despite the fact that your hair was a bit of a mess from your long shift, and you were still in your work attire, which wasn’t exactly the most glamorous, the fact that he thought you were beautiful made you feel a little lighter. You let out a soft laugh, trying to mask the way your cheeks were heating up. “Thank you, Dean. That’s sweet.” Grabbing a rag and wiping down the counter, “Now I want to tell you something-”

“Nah, sweetheart,” Dean tried to wave you off, awkwardly and bashfully, his hand briefly running through his hair as he shafted in his seat. “You don’t have to-”

“Nonsense!” You chuckled, a teasing grin tugging on your lips. “Now, it’s only fair that I tell you something since you decided to spring that on me.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably at the soft blush spreading across his cheeks. “Oh, yeah? What’s that then?”

You leaned in just a little, your voice lowering, “Well, for one thing, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” You paused for a moment, letting your gaze linger on his eyes, taking in the way they sparkled slightly, reflecting the fairy lights behind you. “They’re like this mix of green and gold, and they just-” You tilted your head slightly, your smile softening, “They pull you in, ya’know?” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. “And the rest of your face is just gorgeous as well.” Your eyes glanced up to meet his. “It’s hard not to stare sometimes.”

Dean grinned, his entire face brightening. “I could say the same for you," He winked, taking another sip of his drink.

"I know," You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes, "We are both just too hot to handle." You chuckled, smiling that smile again.

“Yeah,” He agreed, unable to look away. “Pretty hot.” His eyes drifted to your smile, as he subconsciously licked his bottom lip.

You noticed him do it, and felt that familiar heat spread throughout your body; you bit your lip briefly. You opened your mouth to speak but then you heard Larry call out to you. You glanced over, giving a small wave to the man, then back to Dean.

“I’ll be right back.” After a quick moment of apologizing to Larry for the wait and giving him another drink, you turned back to Dean. “Dean, I-” You froze. He was gone; his seat empty. And on the counter was the money he owed you, plus extra as your usual tip. Your smile dropped, staring at the seat, disappointed that he left without saying goodbye. “Shit.” You muttered under your breath, a frown settling onto your face. Sighing, you placed your hands on the countertop and gave your head a shake, forcing yourself to get back to work.

~~~

Dean stuffed another flannel in his duffle bag, mind on autopilot as he packed his bag, making sure he had everything. Dean felt awful for leaving without saying goodbye to you the night before. He could hardly sleep that night because of it. Every time he closed his eyes he heard your laugh ringing through his ears, and every word you spoke echoing in his mind. But it was too late, he needed to leave. There were a few vamp sightings in Oregon that he and Sam needed to take care of.

Before Dean knew it, he was in the Impala; his baby. His and Sam's bags were packed with all their clothes and gear, thrown in the trunk, and he was in the driver's seat, Sam beside him. Dean's grip tightened around the wheel as he just stared straight ahead. Sam glanced over at his older brother, kind of worried, seeing the super serious expression on his face that bordered anger. Dean was angry at himself.

“Hey, Dean, you alright? You seem kinda tense.” Sam questioned quietly, watching as his brother seemed to grow more and more agitated by the second.

Dean let out a heavy sigh, his jaw working as he glared out into the motel parking lot, “Yeah, I'm fine. Jus' tired."

Sam pursed his lips, nodding, but not believing that that was all of it.

Dean felt a pit grow in his stomach as his thoughts continued to spiral. He liked you. More than just attraction, more than a fling. He liked you in a way that made him want to see where this could go. But now? Now he was leaving, and it felt like he was walking away from something that could’ve been so much more. But his life was a hunter's life, and that life wasn't for you...

"Shit..." Dean cursed under his breath, causing Sam to look over at him, "Shit, Sam."

"What?"

"I like her, man." Dean admitted, glancing at Sam. "She's... She's amazing, Sammy, and she deserves so much better than me. She's great, and-"

"Stop beating yourself up." Sam interjected. "Are you talking about that bartender that you never shut up about?"

Dean frowned, "Yeah, that one." He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair, "I didn't even say goodbye. I feel like such an asshole."

"Then go say goodbye," Sam huffed, finding his brother rather oblivious. "I can tell that this is going to haunt you forever if you don't do it, so do it."

Dean stared at Sam for a moment, taking in his advice before he went pedal to the metal.

The bar was quiet, as it always was in the late afternoon. Normally people didn't arrive until at least five, so you got the first hour of your shift in almost complete silence; just preparing for the oncoming night. Dean's sudden and silent departure still stung a little bit. But you brushed it off quickly, telling yourself that you needed to think about the future. But it was hard. You really liked Dean.

Hearing the bell above the door jingle, you didn't bother to look up, just preparing a bowl of peanuts for a part of the bar when you finally decided to glance upwards. You froze, seeing Dean, standing on the other side of the bar in front of you. His hands were in his jean pockets, and the expression on his face was easy to read; guilt.

"Dean," You blinked in surprise, walking around the bar to stand in front of him. "What are you doing here?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his hands leaving his pockets as he looked down at his boots for a second, then back up at you. "I wanted to say goodbye," He said, his voice rough with something unspoken.

You could feel the air around you change as you stood just a few feet from him, your heart skipping in your chest. You wanted to say something, but your words got stuck in your throat.

Dean didn’t say anything else, and instead, his hand reached up, hesitating for just a moment before he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His palm lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. You both stood there for a beat, your breaths caught in your throats as your gazes locked. You didn't even realize that you were both leaning forward until his lips just barely brushed against yours, his breath hot on your lips as he pressed closer to you. A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers gripping the sleeves of his jacket tightly. His other hand found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, chest to chest; the warmth of his hand seeping into your clothes.

"Goodbye," Dean whispered before his lips met yours.

Your whole body tingled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back, your lips moving together smoothly. It was like magic, it was like heaven, and god was he so good. It wasn't long before you both pulled apart, chests heaving slightly, Dean's face flushed, your own face mirroring his. Your arms stayed wrapped tight around his neck, his arms encircling your waist. Dean's eyes flickered to yours, and you smiled up at him.

"Hi," You breathed softly, looking into his beautiful green eyes, which shone brighter than ever.

He laughed at your reply, his eyes crinkling at the edges, "Hey."

You smiled, leaning your forehead against his before nuzzling his nose, your lips hovering over his, "I think you should have my number, don't you think?"

His smirk grew wider. "Is that a suggestion or a demand?"

You rolled your eyes playfully at his teasing tone, pulling back, “Just give me your damn phone, Winchester."

Dean snorted lightly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone before handing it to you. You grabbed it from his hand, tapping in your number swiftly. You gave it back to Dean, who quickly put it in his back pocket before pressing his lips against yours once again. This kiss was softer than the last, and you felt a little bit dizzy after he pulled away.

"I really have to go now," He muttered, "Don't want the Sasquatch in the car to get restless."

You giggled, "Well, we can't have that."

Dean smirked, "I'll come back."

"I know," Your heart swelled in your chest, "I'll be waiting."

~~~

Main Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

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rt8815 · 9 months ago

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Come Home

Dipping my toes back into writing with my very first Loki x OC fic, though she (Dr. Aspen Junge) only makes a brief appearance at the end of this piece.

It's post-Avengers canon divergent. I'll be jumping around non-chronologically, but perhaps not as much as my Criminal Minds OC fic.

A special thanks to @illegalcerebral for brainstorming names for my OC with me and for being an awesome sounding board ♥️

WC: 1,153

...

New York, 2030

Loki mumbled to himself, brow furrowed in concentration. He sat at his desk, sorting through forms and intelligence reports that Stark had sent earlier in the day. Being an Avenger involved a surprising amount of paperwork.

“Daddy?” a tiny voice called out from the study door. There stood Loki’s four year old daughter, her face slightly paled with tiredness.

Setting the papers aside, he opened his arms to her. “Why are you out of bed, lille venn?” he asked when she climbed into his lap.

“Fenny can't sleep,” she explained, handing him the wolf plushie that she had been clutching against her ribs.

“Mmm, and what's troubling him, Astrid?”

“We’re worried about Uncle Thor. Is he okay?”

“Why do you ask, love?”

She pointed at the window, which was getting steadily pelted with rain and sleet.

“His storm sounds sad, Daddy,” she explained, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s not loud like usual.”

Loki agreed that it looked rather miserable outside, all drizzly and gray.

“You miss him,” he stated simply, earning a solemn nod in response.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back, revealing her melancholic face.

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about your Uncle Thor, but this,” he inclined his head toward the rain, “isn’t him. Asgard is too far away for him to influence the weather here.”

“Oh,” came her soft reply.

He brushed a few inky black, wavy locks off her face. “As for missing him...I know it’s hard to wait, but Thor will return soon.”

“How soon?”

“Two sleeps, darling.”

Astrid gazed blankly at the rain, digesting the information. “So...day after tomorrow.”

“Correct.”

She buried herself in her father’s chest with a huff. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Loki chuckled, nuzzling her hair.

“All right, back to bed with you,” he ordered as he stood from his chair and carried her down the hall. “We have a busy day ahead of us, and if you aren’t well rested, you’ll be as ornery as a bilgesnipe.”

Kneeling, he gently placed Astrid on her bed, but she sat back up before he could tuck her in. Loki raised his brows at her questioningly.

“Daddy, can we sing “Come Home” for Uncle Thor? Please?” she begged.

Loki hesitated. The song he had written many years ago in a bout of homesickness was meant to be sung by the weary traveler, not those awaiting his return. Moreover, it held very complicated feelings for him. His daughter, however, knew none of that.

Astrid’s hazel eyes rounded and her lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, pulling at Loki’s heartstrings.

Norns, that child had him wrapped around her fingers. He sighed in resignation.

“Very well, but not too loudly. We mustn’t wake your Mother.”

“Okay,” she whispered, waving her hands about, leaving behind a trail of teal sparks. “And you can use your ‘llusions too?”

Loki carefully enveloped Astrid’s hands in his own. “With your help,” he said, smiling when her face lit up.

“Focus,” he instructed. “Think of the object you wish to project. See it in your mind's eye. Do you have it?”

Astrid stared with comical intensity at their joined hands, a little dent forming on her forehead. “Got it,” she announced after a few moments.

“Good, keep concentrating,” he instructed as he opened his hands, prompting her to do the same.

Resting in Astrid's palms was a narrow insect nearly an inch long, with black wings accented by yellow along the edges, and a yellow-red-black target pattern on its head. As Loki watched, the creature unfurled its wings and took off, hovering a few inches in the air.

There the black and yellow underbelly was exposed, the latter of which began glowing at regular intervals.

“It's a lightning bug!” Astrid announced proudly.

“I see! Very well done,” Loki congratulated her.

“Thanks! Your turn, Daddy.”

“I don't know how I could possibly follow that performance, but I shall try.”

Closing his eyes, Loki slowly raised his arms, palms upward. Rich green light emanated from them, spreading throughout the room, replacing the furniture and bookcases with a verdant forest, teeming with wildlife.

A (quietly) roaring waterfall appeared where a lamp stood moments before, the stream it emptied into bubbling alongside Astrid's bed. Above them towered a majestic apple tree, its branches populated with vibrantly colored birds.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Ready.”

Music softly swelled around them as they began the chorus, altering the tune to that of a lullaby:

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

After a pause, Loki took the lead for the verse, his warm baritone voice settling over the room like a cozy blanket.

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger…

Loki gestured to Astrid, inviting her to finish the line.

She looked skyward, her fledgling soprano filling the air as she sweetly sang, “når kommer du hjem?”

They repeated the chorus once more, softly clapping to the beat of the fading music.

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

With a flick of Loki’s wrists, the illusion dissolved and Astrid’s room returned to normal.

“Right, you. Sleepy time,” he said firmly, pressing his index finger to her forehead, prompting her to fall back theatrically onto the pillows.

“Did Uncle Thor hear us, Daddy?”

Loki hummed as he tucked the covers around her.

“What do you think, Astrid?”

The little girl tilted her head, giving it careful consideration.

She nodded decidedly, hugging Fenny closely.

“I know he did.”

Loki smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes.

“That's what I believe too,” he agreed, kissing the top of Astrid's head.

Sleep finally began to win, Astrid’s eyelids drooping heavily.

“God natt, Pappa,” she yawned.

Loki’s chest squeezed hearing her speak in Frigga’s dialect.

He waved his hand once more, casting an illusion of stars and swirling galaxies on the bedroom ceiling.

“God natt, min skatt,” he replied as he closed the door softly.

He walked past the study on his way to the primary suite (the paperwork would keep), pausing outside the bedroom door.

“Heimdall?” he murmured. “Tell Thor a little girl is desperately missing her uncle.”

Creeping quietly, Loki made his way to the bed to slide under the covers and wrap his arm around Aspen.

“Ya big softie,” she mumbled, pointing to the silent video feed on the baby monitor.

Loki chuckled in response. There was no point in denying it.

He pulled her closer and burrowed his face in her hair.

“Only for the two of you.”

...

I headcanon that Asgardian sounds more Icelandic, and Vanir, which I assume Frigga would have spoken as a first language, would more closely resemble Norwegian, since that's the language they used in the Loki series.

Lille venn translates to "little friend," or in the context of a parent speaking to a child, it means "little darling."

God natt means "good night."

Min skatt means "my treasure."

#loki fanfic #loki x oc #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki x kids #Dad!Loki #I'm too old to be up this late #night night world #i hope that fucking mosquito in my room dies a painful death #completely irrelevant to the story but it's the reason i haven't gone to sleep yet #loki fluff

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feng-shui71 · 4 months ago

Note

recently followed you and i dont know much abt ur oc but i love her i hope you have some sort of masterposr for her 💚💚 does she exist after re5/wesker death… whats she doin during the evnts of re7 can she throw a beer can at ethan winters i just think it would be funny

Awh thank you !! and yeah of course I do, my artwork masterlist is found here

Unfortunately after Re5, Jordan retires from agent work entirely due to her trauma and physical condition. She is in no way shape or form capable of even doing it as from 2005-2009 Wesker forbid her from doing any work, instead being more of like a housewife, you can find the details about this in another ask post I got here. Instead of Jordan, her twin brother Jaiden works alongside Chris during the events of Re7-8!! (I am going to struggle answering any questions about this, Re6-8 are the only mainline RE games I haven’t played <\\3)

Anyway here’s her throwing that beer can at Ethan:

#i love ethan and mia and all of the re7-8 cast its just uh #yeah im more of an old re person #i havent played re0 or code veronica either but im waiting for the cv remake <\\3 #thank you for the ask !! <3 #resident evil #oc x canon #resident evil oc #biohazard #oc #re oc #fengshuioc #biohazard oc #fengshuispeaks #jordan manalang #jaiden manalang #ethan winters #dude i need to draw jaiden more like actually #he shows up in .. mmm re1 re3 and re8 me thinks #fengshui sit down and draw him challenge

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hauntted-idv · 4 months ago

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mmm okay, I wrote out the songs I have that fit my characters best :3 only featuring a few ships because I'm not fully settled on a lot of them,,

📖 Damir Jelen - not (big thief)

🖼 Montague Chastain - she will destroy you (cocteau twins)

📜 Saint Sallow- andromeda (weyes blood) / sullen girl (fiona apple)

🪡 Cecil Domenech - twilight (bôa) / glory box (portishead)

🏚 Nigel Cahall - pique (humanwine)

🌳 Heath Demkis - army dreamers (kate bush) / your fathers son (shayfer james)

🗝 Lavinia Agnelli - wallflower (the shroud)

Damir/Florian - come to me (Bjork) / worse things (johnny hollow)

Cecil/Matthew (gf's oc) - ashes in the wind (the shroud) / step on me (the cardigans)

Nigel/Jose - I love you like an alcoholic (the taxpayers)

I'm not a massive fan of Nigel and Jose's song but it fits them for now,, :'t damir and Montague's songs are also placeholders until I find something better . I swear my oc x canon ships are happy I'm just in a bad point in life rn ♡

#damir jelen #montague chastain #heath demkis #saint sallow #cecil domenech #nigel cahall #lavinia agnelli

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elysia-nsimp · 1 year ago

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POV I spent an hour redrawing Jamils hair over and over again

Anyway other character is an OC her name is Neisha Faez she’s based on Jasmine and she is the Definition Of A Simp I’ll make a character intro post for her eventually

Love me some oc x canon mmm yummy yummy

#elysia has too many ocs #eely draws stuff #twst oc x canon #twst oc art #twst oc #twst jamil #twst jamil viper #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #the more tags I add the more obnoxious I feel

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artemis1214 · 9 months ago

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'Red' | Chapter from 'A Siren's Hunt' Alastor x OC fanfiction

**TRIGGER WARNING: 18+ SMUT, SADISM, MASOCHISM, BLOOD, STRONG LANGUAGE, DOM/SUB **

youtube

The song above is the theme of the chapter, I highly recommend listening to it while reading.

This is a chapter from my book, 'A Siren Hunt' which is an OC x Canon romance story. If that is not your thing, feel free to skip. There are also minor spoilers in this Chapter, but nothing too major.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unusual,

They say strange fascination, infatuation,

A lunatic...🎶

~ Louisiana, 1931 ~

As the three walk home from their morning at the park, Esme catches a few glances of Alastor carrying a sleeping Geneviève in his arms. She had tired herself out from running with the other children in the play area and was due for her afternoon nap at any moment. Alastor walks slightly ahead of Esme, still visibly upset from the interaction with that man earlier.

He looks strangely intriguing like this, the anger still boiling within him.

She scans his body with her eyes, noticing how heavenly he appears to her right now. So protective, possessive, so dominant.

Alastor feels her eyes on him and turns his head, making eye contact with her. Esme quickly darts her eyes away, provoking a small chuckle from her husband.

They soon approach their home and the three make it up the front steps.

Alastor opened the front door with his key, readjusting his hold on Geneviève to ensure he had her securely, before softly pushing the door open. As soon as the door is closed behind them, he turns his attention to Esme, giving her a small smirk. "I see right through your plan, darling, I know exactly what you're scheming."

Esme locks the door and smiles before responding, "Go put her down for her nap, then."

He chuckled softy and rolled his eyes at her order. He knew what that 'nap' usually entailed, and what she had planned for the two of them, but he would be a liar if he said he didn't look forward to it almost every day. "Mhm, alright, if you insist I'll put her down for her nap." He gently carries Geneviève up to her room, rubbing her back with small circles and keeping her nuzzled close to him.

After they're out of sight, Esme calmly removes everything from the kitchen table and hops on top of it, crossing her legs. She tightens her ponytail, making sure the bow in her hair looks presentable and pristine. She smooths out her dress and checks her breath before waiting patiently for his return.

To clarify, she didn't need any man in her life before him. She was pleased with their attempts, and even appreciated Noah's company, but with Alastor she needed him badly. Emotionally, mentally, and dear God did she need him physically.

She needed him every day. To the point where it hurt. She so deeply needed him within her that if she went without for too long she was certain she would wither away. The thought of him alone was enough to have her leaking through her undergarments and onto the wood of the table.

Incredibly needy and ready to please him.

She can hear his shoes coming down the stairwell and sees him freeze at the bottom steps, seeing her sitting patiently.

Eagerly waiting for him.

"What's the matter, darling?" Esme asks in a sweetened tone of voice.

He watched as she sat there for him, legs crossed and fiddling with the ribbon of her dress. Seeing her waiting for him like that made several lewd thoughts pop into his mind, ones of her on her knees begging and him tying her to their bedpost. He took a few steps closer, and let his eyes roam her body up and down, before speaking teasingly with a hint of playfulness, "Nothing's wrong, dear, just admiring the lovely view on our table..."

Esme smiled innocently up at him, placing two hands on his chest, "You know, hunny, that man seemed to really upset you earlier. Perhaps, you could use a way to redirect that tension."

He hummed at her offer, taking a moment before parting her legs and standing in between them, "Mmm darling, I think you may be right, I could use a bit of 'stress relief' right about now..."

"I was thinking you could take it out on me?"

Upon hearing those words, Alastor swiftly pulls her body flush against his. Smiling more hungry and lustful as he spoke in a breathless growl, "Oh you naughty little tease, are you saying you want me to choke you, darling?"

Esme meets his energy where he's at by leaning closer into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. She speaks in a low whisper, "Whatever you please. You could choke me, spank me..." She smiled that bright pearly white grin she knew he loved to see, "Scratch me, bite me, leave all the marks you desire~"

His thoughts raced with all the things he could do to her pretty little body, her beautifully clear velvety soft skin. A primal lust coursed through him at the possibility of scattering marks all over her. A mark that would show everyone exactly who she belonged to.

To make her, his.

His voice dropped to a lower, darker tone, "Don't tempt me, because if you keep this up...I might end up getting a bit mean."

"Would that be such a problem?"

"I'm not sure if you could handle what I have in mind..."

"Humor me."

He leans in, raising an eyebrow, "I'll choke you so hard that you'll have marks on you..." He continues, "I'll ravish your body, claiming your skin as my own, and I won't stop until you have blood all over you."

Esme's voice gets lost in her throat and her face becomes flushed. There's a pause before she speaks. "We should probably use a safe word..."

"Always so willing to please me~" He hums, "We could use one, but on the chance that you can't speak at all, you'll need to use your hands." He picks up her right hand, gently kissing and sucking her fingertips before whispering against her skin, "Snap your fingers if you need me to stop, alright?"

Esme's breathing intensifies, turning into small needy pants, "What word would you like me to use, sir?"

Alastor begins to slowly undo the ribbon across her dress, taking a moment to run his hand through her ponytail. He couldn't wait to rip those strands out of her head, "Let's use 'red'. It's simple and effective. Now, be a good girl and tell me how far I can go...how much do you want me to take my frustration out on you?"

Esme moans softly as he begins to pull the neckline of her dress past her chest and rest it across her stomach, leaving her chest exposed to him from behind her brassiere. "As far as you want..." She says breathlessly. She raises a hand to his face and strokes his jaw gently, "What about you?" She asks, "Am I free to explore?"

"Oh you're a naughty temptress, aren't you, but yes, absolutely, feel free to 'explore' me all you want. I'm all yours~"

He pauses, "But, you never did answer the question I presented you. How far would you like me to go? I won't proceed unless I have your permission to do so."

"I don't want you to hold back." She says quickly, "Choke me, scratch me, pull my hair. I want to scream your name so loud the neighbors force us to church on Sunday." She leans in, "Bite me so hard that I bleed underneath you, and I'll do the same."

His eyes widen and he chuckles devilishly, feeling the heat and desire building between them. He feels his pants tighten around his groin and a pulsating sensation from his core at her words, her pleas, and her demands for him to succumb to his fantasies and make her entirely his. He brings his face to her ear and speaks in a low, rough, growl.

"Oh, you sinful, naughty girl...if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a masochist."

Esme pulls away and smiles seductively at him, wiggling her eyebrows at confirmation.

Oh, where the fuck have you been all my life? You keep this side away from me all this time? That should be a sin entirely on its own.

"Well, aren't you just a little pleasure..." He purred, "Does the pretty girl like being hurt, hm?"

He doesn't wait another second, before pushing her back to lay flat against the table and speaking for one final time before he begins his meal,

"We start now..."

~ Current Time, Esme's POV ~

Oh, dear Satan, she tasted magnificent.

I haven't relished in a kill like that in a very long time. My hand opens the dressing room door and I step out. I can feel the cool air hit my jaw and I realize I'm still soaked in her blood. I raise my hand to my jaw and begin to suck her metallic juices off my mouth when I look up to see Alastor standing over me.

"What are you..." He pushes me by my chest into the dressing room. The door shuts with a green smoke and the outline is shining in several of those symbols. "What is this, an interrogation?" I go to walk past him, but he roughly grabs my arm and pushes me up against the wall.

He stares down at me, "Your bratty games are only going to get you so far, or do you forget your history?" He leans down effortlessly picks me up by my thighs, placing me on top of a vanity table.

You know, this height difference is getting annoying.

He leans down and picks up my jaw, bringing it to his mouth and taking a long exaggerated inhale.

Call me what suits your taste, I just want a taste,

And I've always heard it's what's inside that counts...🎶

My breath gets lost once more and I see his bright red eyes staring into my soul, devouring me with a simple gaze. There's a familiar feeling within me that I haven't felt in a long time in front of a man. A building wetness and desire underneath me, so much that it hurt. I allowed him to move closer to my face, noting him continuously looking up at me for permission.

It was a nonverbal understanding, really.

His lips grazed mine as he took a taste of the substance across me. He pulls back with a growl to his voice, "It's not you..." He says quietly.

"Excuse me?"

He slams his hand against the mirror behind me, causing the glass to shatter. "It's not you." He repeats. His body is practically shaking and I look up at him like a prey that had just been caught.

Fuck me so hard right now, fuck me on this glass right here, and make me bleed underneath you...

"I desire you.." He says softly.

I know exactly what he means. The memories of his mouth on my skin, biting and claiming every inch as his during our lifetimes together. The blood would linger on my skin and the bruises would remain for days. I don't hesitate before I allow my fangs to drop from my mouth and harshly bite down on my lip, watching his eyes widen as my own crimson leaked from the puncture wounds.

My mouth hung open in lustful pants.

He instinctively leans in with a predatory mindset, my hand reaches up and grabs him by the throat, my claws sinking into his pretty skin.

A few drops leak out into my fingers. I see his face wince softly, but he's mostly focused on me.

"What do you desire?"

"To taste you." He says simply.

"And what do you say?"

He looks away, but I redirect his face to look into my eyes.

"What do you say?" I repeat.

"This is torture..." He huffs.

"It wouldn't be if you played nice and asked sweetly~" I smirk.

Come on big tough guy, say pretty please ~

"...Please." He whispers, his eyes locked on my mouth.

I smirk, straightening up my back and taking my fingers to my mouth. I stare at him as I run my tongue up my fingers, savoring the taste of his blood.

"Well..." I whisper, "Let's begin~"

My insides are red, and yours are too,

And the red on my face is matching you,

And goodness, you're bleeding, what a wonderful feeling,

You're down and you're pleading,

My head is just reeling....🎶

His mouth ravishes mine in a powerful dance for domination. I'm not going down with a fight, as I lean my body up against his. My hands find his hair and I begin to tangle my fingers within his locks. He meets my mindset but doesn't waste time and yanks my hair to the side.

I yelp sharply, which results in a chuckle escaping his lips as he blessed my neck with several kisses, nips, and sucks. He finds a special spot right in the crook of my neck and hones in on it, placing several kisses into my skin before I feel his sharp teeth enter my skin.

"Ahh!~" I shout in both pain and ecstasy as I feel him consume me. My hand yanks him back by his hair, his neck fully exposed, and I lean forward to run my tongue up it to his jaw.

"You forget our agreement?" He groans.

"That was a long time ago..." I hiss, continuing to kiss his neck. I pull away and roughly remove his jacket, throwing it across the room. "Why the fuck do you have so many layers?" I spat.

"So eager to get to me, what a good girl~" His half-lidded eyes looked with deep passion into mine.

"It's been 31,853 days..." I huff, frantically undoing the straps across his chest, dropping them to the floor.

"32,000." He corrects, and my eyes shoot up to his, narrowing.

"You've been counting..."

"You've been stalling." He wraps a hand around my throat and squeezes softly.

A longing moan flew out of my lips and my eyes rolled back. He brings me up to his face, I'm now on my knees on the table, and he kisses me softly before letting go of his grip. My body slumps back but I waste no time before I undo the buttons on his shirt and pull down the fabric. My hands roam his chest, pulling myself up by his shoulders. I begin to kiss along his collarbone, feeling his hand brushing through my hair.

"I've missed you..." I mumble across his skin.

Esme, stop it....

"I've longed for your touch." I praise, shamelessly stroking his ego.

For the love of all Hell, stop!

"And I'll be damned." I growl, "If one more cursed bitch stands in between me."

I can't help myself, and my fangs sink deeply into his shoulder, causing a loud record screech and a wince from his mouth. His hand tightly grips my scalp, and I moan into his skin, but he releases his control.

And...Is that a moan?

I retract my fangs and bring my face up to his. Oh my, he looks so beautiful with my blood on him. So delicious, so desirable, so - fuck it.

Our lips connect with a passionate force. The liquid across both of our faces makes our skin slip against one another, but the taste is so divine that I can't help but moan under him. He must feel the same way because I can feel the vibrations of his groans against my lips.

The red means I love you,

Tasting your blood means I love you,

The red means I love you...🎶

I can feel his hand slowly move up my dress, pushing it above my knees and thighs with little to no trouble. I gasp under his kiss, but his other hand holds me steady. Suddenly, his finger tips are tracing dangerously close to where I need him the most.

I moan into the kiss, and he must have gotten the point because he swiftly spreads my legs and begins to rub me through my undergarments.

"Alastor~" I moan, throwing my head back and disconnecting us. He holds my jaw and brings my gaze back to his. My breathing rapidly increases when I feel him enter two fingers into me, pumping me at a steady rhythm.

"Do you long for me?" He asks, keeping his eyes locked on me.

"Y-Yes.."

"You know what I mean..."

You want to do this here? When I'm so undone? You seriousl-nghh.....fuck it alright..

"Yes!" I lustfully shout, "Alastor, please..."

"Please, what?" He smirks, curling his fingers, and earning a gasp from me as my head falls on his shoulder.

"Ple-please...." I struggle to say, "Please fuck me already. It's been so long, darling." I look up at him, "W-Wouldn't mmph, wouldn't you agree~"

"Mon amour...." He lowers his face to mine, increasing his speed and causing me to heavily pant against him, "I've dreamed of this moment every day."

My moans become more erratic and unstable as I feel a pit grow in my pelvis, signaling me that I was one moment away from having ultimate bliss. I close my eyes and continue to moan loudly, which must have signaled Alastor as well, because he quickly removed his fingers.

"W-Wha.."

He licks his fingers clean before growing his claws and ripping the lower half of my dress off.

I happened to like that dress...

"Put your legs around me." He commands, getting ready to hold me again. I do what I'm told and hang on to this man's shoulders for support. He pushes me against the wall and my hands drop to his pants, beginning to undo his buckle and get him ready for business.

My hand soon finds him as it wraps around his throbbing sex, begging for stimulation. Alastor steadies himself against the wall with a free hand, keeping me supported with the other. I smirk at how quickly he allows himself to become undone, removing by hand and raising it to my face.

"What are you doing?" He asks, clearly frustrated by my actions. I open my jaw and brush my tongue across my palm, wetting it, before dropping it again around his cock. The wetness from my saliva allowed me to slide up and down him with more ease than before.

His eyes quickly squeeze shut and his face falls forward, resting against the wall, "Fffuck~" He moans with a slight growl. I can feel him buck his hips into my hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?" I coo in his ear, tightening my grip and increasing my speed.

His breaths are getting shaky, I'm doing my job correctly.

His nails dig into the side of my thigh, causing some of that wonderful liquid to drip out.

You leave me high and dry

A rush comes to my mind at the drops

Of blood you leave behind

Run as you might, my love will never, ever

Stop...🎶

I can feel him twitching against my hand when all of a sudden his other hand pulls me away. His eyes burn deeply into mine as he says, "I'm going to make you scream so hard you won't have any voice by morning."

Oh, please do.

He lifts me higher as he positions himself against my entrance. He looks at me for permission and I nod softly, feeling him slowly push his way into me. I gasp and tuck my head into his shoulder as he does so, adjusting to his size.

He doesn't waste any time before falling into a steady rhythm within me, pumping me with his love.

I'm a little ashamed of the pleas that came from my throat.

"Oh god.." I moaned shamelessly, "You're so big mmm you feel so good~" my hands continue to roam through his hair, pulling ever so slightly, "Keep going, darling, please~"

He continued to kiss and nibble at my neck and collarbone, pushing deeper into me with every gasp and moan I let out. His own body is trembling and I can tell it's almost too much for him to handle.

"You feel so good, amour, so tight and warm......"

The moans that fell on his ears were just pathetic, but he always did have a way with me. I lift my hips, desperate for more of him, "F-Faster, please Alastor~" I begged, "Make me scream for you..."

He obeys my request, picking up speed almost on command, with a goal set in his mind to have me falling apart with pleasure. He moves faster inside me, causing our bodies to begin a sinful tango with one another.

"Nghh oooh f-fuck~" My head becomes hazy and cloudy, lost in the intense wave of pleasure surging through me. I have no thoughts, only him. He rediscovers spots I forgot were possible, filling me with a whoreish lust with every stroke. "You're doing so well." I praise, stroking the back of his head, "Keep going, baby~"

My chest rises and falls dramatically and I place a hand over my mouth to silence the sounds.

"No." He demands, pinning my hand over my head, rather roughly. My eyes connect with his, seeing a darkened gaze behind them, and oh my those magnificent antlers of his nearly taking up the entire room, "Let me hear you..." He groans, staring into my eyes, "Let me hear how good I make you feel, and don't you dare ever forget who does this to you."

I can't muster any words, but instead nod frantically at my instructions.

Good girls always follow instructions well.

I go to open my mouth, but he reaches a deep nerve within me, causing my eyes to widen and my jaw to drop open in a squeal, "God y-yes! Right there!" I shout in a sultry moan under his touch. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind him and see that I am rapidly falling apart. Every inch of my being completely devoured by him from the inside out. My eyes glow brightly and become half lidded as I feel a pressure build in my center. "Alastor, ooh - you're so fucking g- ah~" I sink my claws into his back and drag them with a purpose, leaving a trial of red behind the marks.

'Cause my insides are red

And yours are too

And the red on my face

Is matching you

And goodness you're bleeding

What a wonderful feeling

You're down and you're pleading

My head is just reeling...🎶

This is our love language. For decades we've been apart, and for a good however long it's been, our bodies have been connected as if we never left. I watch our dance from the mirror and see us both covered in bloody marks. We wanted everyone to know. I wanted every single demon in this ring to know what was going on in this dirty little room.

My head is snapped out of it's thoughts, feeling his movements becoming rougher and more determined. The pressure in my core continues to slowly build, until I'm withering underneath him, "Oooohmygodd~" I pant.

He pants, struggling to find words, but he does like the poet he is, "C'mon darling, you're so close. Just let go, it'll feel so good, I promise~"

His hand finds my throat once more and firmly squeezes around it, causing my eyes to roll back in my head.

My voice echoes through the space and I know my siren song is going to fill this whole damn club if I'm not careful, it feels too fucking good.

"C-Cover my mouth." I whimper looking into his eyes with a pleading look.

Instantly, his palm flys to my mouth and presses deeply into my lips, silencing me (for the most part).

He continues to pump himself in and out of me, releasing low moans from his throat as he speaks, "That's it, mon amour, scream into my hand. Be a good girl and cum for me."

He doesn't have to tell me twice, I don't have a choice. As if my body responds to his command, my core snaps and I feel myself being harshly thrown over the edge. I scream several filthy words into his hand, with such force that my throat feels raw. I feel small tears forming in my eyes as the pleasure he's pouring over me is unbearable.

My face is red and I'm still very much marked up from head to toe as he continues to pump in me, my face contorts with overstimulation.

I mumble into his hand, he can't hear me, so I lightly snap my fingers next to his head, causing him to free my mouth.

"Red." I whisper.

The red means I love you

Tasting your blood means I love you

The red means I love you

The red means I love you... 🎶

I know he remembers, because he slips himself out of me immediately and catches me in his arms.

"Are you spent?" He asks sweetly. My body is trembling and I nuzzle myself into his chest, whimpering softly, "Alrighty..." He chuckles, "...let's get you cleaned up." He carries me away.

This means nothing, I'm still very angry at you...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can read more of Esme x Alastor in 'A Siren's Hunt' on Wattpad.

This is a sequel to 'A Siren's Spell', you can read that here...

~ Artemis🦌💗

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