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alastor-simp · 3 months ago

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Never Been Kissed💋 - Alastor x Female Reader

❥Summary: It gets revealed to everyone that you have never been kissed before ever, in your previous life and afterlife, and a certain deer demon takes interest in that

❥Tags: Alastor x Female Reader, Alastor x Reader, Never Been Kissed, First Kiss, Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction, Angel Is Your Bestie, Hint of Spice, Kissing, Al Becomes A Kissing Maniac

❥Notes: I love First Kiss stories so I wanted to do one with Alastor. Enjoy:) (Fanart credit to unakura on Twitter)

"That guy is smoking hot!! Denise is def gonna choose him." Angel said, as he was leaning against the pillow, face a bit flushed from the guys hotness. "Nah, he's too much of a tool. Besides Ray is a much better choice and he's much hotter." You argued back against Angel's comment. The both of you were watching a hell's version of a dating show, set in the Lust Ring of Hell. It was similar to the shows on Earth, just with demons and more sluttier plot. Everyone else was doing their own thing, Charlie and Vaggie were deciding what the next redemption lesson was, Sir Pentious and Niffty were baking in the kitchen, Husk was cleaning the bar glasses, and Alastor was sitting across from the both of you, reading his daily newspaper, chair facing a bit away from the TV due to his dislike of it.

The show continued on, the two pairs becoming a couple, which eventually lead to a hot make out session. Flustered, you turned your head away, raising your hand above your eyes to cover the scene in front of you. Angel took quick notice of your reaction, bolting out in laughter. "HAHA what's the matter with ya? Can't handle a little kissy kiss scene?" You shook your head no at his question, causing him to laugh more. "Seriously toots, you act like you never kissed before." Angel continued to laugh, his feet kicking up in the air. Lowering your hand, your face flushed red, super embarrassed. "I haven't." Unbeknownst to you, Alastors ears flicked a bit at what you said, eyes leaving the paper to gaze at you. Angel couldn't fully make out what you said because of his laughter, but he soon stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What you say toots? I didn't catch that." Angel asked, inching closer towards you. Fingers twirling your hair, you slowly responded back to Angel, "I have never been kissed."

"WHATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?" Angels loud response, alerted the residents around him, half of them running into the lobby to see what was going on. Angel hands had grabbed your shoulders, shaking you like a maniac. "YOU'RE TELLING ME IN THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN ALIVE AND IN HELL, NO HANDSOME SCHMUCK HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE?!" Angel had fully stopped shaking you, which you were thankful for since you started to feel a bit sick. "No." The others had walked closer to where you were on the couch, except Al as he was still sitting on the chair, but his newspaper was closed, watching the scene in front of him with curious eyes. "OH MY SATAN!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS! Angel's body began to lean against the couch, hands covering his eyes in disbelief.

Vaggie had slowly made her away over, a bit annoyed at Angel's reaction. "Hey, there's no need to get so work about a stupid kiss. Plenty of people have never been kissed before." Angel removed his hands from his face, glaring a bit at Vaggie. "That's not why I'm shocked. I'm shocked that someone hasn't taken one look at my best friend and thought "I wanna smooch them." Feels like a crime." Niffty, being her quick self, had run up on the couch, hands placed on your cheeks, crazed eye starring at you. "How come you never gotten kissed before? Saving yourself for the ultimate bad boy? It felt like a million eyes were watching you right now, making you extremely shy - your body wanting to escape from this awkward situation. "Look I- I don't um...."

Sensing your discomfort, Charlie had walked over, grabbing Niffty softly, setting her down on the floor. "Okayyyyyy lets change the subject alright. I have a brand new idea for all of us to try, now if you will all follow me." You were grateful to Charlie that she was trying to stir the whole topic to something else. Angel appeared apologetic, patting your head, mouthing an apology, before he got up, walking over to join Charlie and the others. You, however, weren't in the mood to join them, deciding it be better to just go to your room. As you got up and walked away, you didn't notice the crimson glowing eyes watching you, as you began to head up to your room.

***Your Bedroom***

Heaving a sigh, you carried yourself over to the bed, flopping on to it, face hitting the soft pillow. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself, wanting to hide from the world. The whole lobby situation was still playing in your mind, making you groan. Hand reaching for your other pillow, you placed it against you, hugging it tightly. You decided it be better to just sleep off what just happened, placing your face further into the pillow you were hugging, closing your eyes. A soft tapping sensation was hitting your head, but you chose to ignore it. The sensation continued, which caused you to open your eyes. Moving the cover, your eyes peaked out to see Alastor, sitting on your bed, smiling down at you. "Ahh, she finally reveals herself! Hello, my dear!" He said with astounding enthusiasm, making you groan more. "Leave me alone Alastor please." The cover returned to your head, blocking your face from Alastor again. "Now now, don't hide yourself away from me. I merely wanted to spark up a conversation with you." His clawed hand gripped at your cover, pulling it away from you, revealing yourself to him again.

Debating whether to grab the sheet again, you chose not to, unless you wanted to anger him. Slowly getting up, you looked at Al, wearing an annoyed expression. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Widening his smile, Alastor leaned on his side on the bed, hand placed against his cheek, "From what the effeminate spider yelled out in the lobby, you have never been kissed before, correct?" Your eyes widen at him. Seriously? He was bringing this up again?! Heaving a sigh, you nodded your head, cheeks becoming aflamed. The embarrassment radiating off of you, brought massive satisfaction to him, his smile stretching to the point it could break his face. "I don't indulge in topics of conversation like this, but this one had peaked my curiosity. So enlighten me, my dear, why haven't you kissed anyone?"

"He's messing with me", was your first thought when he asked you this, but reading his expression more closely, you realized he was being serious with his question. Turning away, hands fiddling together, you tried to answer him, "I don't have a clear answer for that. I guess what Niffty said is kinda true. Waiting for the right person...I guess." Silence filled the air after you gave your answer, only thing you could hear was the soft sounds of static from Al. "You were expecting the classic fairytale, finding your one true love kiss, I presume? His tone mocked you, making you a bit angry that he was finding amusement in this. "Yeah that's exactly it, now that I have answered your question, can you please leave me alone?" Grabbing the cover that Alastor had pulled away from you, covering your body and face, you fell on your side to the bed, facing away from him.

Static chuckling came from next to you, as you stayed under the covers, refusing to come out. "If it's something you desire, I will be willing to grant it." He spoke so calmly like he didn't just say the most shocking thing ever. Popping your head out of the cover, you craned your neck towards him, giving him an "Are you serious" look. "Yeah right. You're just joking with me." Laughing at what he said, you turned away, resuming to stay inside your blanket. A rush of wind could be heard next to you, and before you knew it, Alastor was inside the cover with you, body hovering above you, hands placed on the sides of the bed "Who's joking?" He spoke, no hint of static in his voice, as his crimson eyes gazed down at you, lips in a smirk. Jumping at his position being on top of you, your mouth became unable to form words. Was he serious? He wanted to kiss you? "Is it okay if I ask why?" You spoke softly at him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Alastor appeared a bit put off by your question, for he himself, was a bit befuddled as to why he wanted to kiss you. His eyes gazed up, thinking hard about it. "I've roamed hell for many years, having no interest in acts of affection or romance. Many suitors often came my way, but I broke their hearts, or ate them HAHAHAHA!" His eyes flashed into dials for a second as his head went back from his uproar of laughter. Eyes continued to stare at him as he slowly calmed down from his laughing fit, face taking on a more serious tone, despite the smile still remaining on his face, “However! There were times I wondered what it would be like to take part in acts like this." The radio filter left his voice, as gloved fingers gripped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip, softly.

Your face was probably was red as his hair right now, as your brain was still trying to process what he was saying. Your eyes continued to stare up at Al, who continued to smile, eyes filled with softness, for once. "Is...are you comfortable doing this?" You quietly asked, palms feeling sweaty from how nervous you were. His head tilted with a crack, once again, confused by your question. "I'm worried that doing this is overstepping your boundaries. What if I am a bad kisser or have bad breath, what if I-" A boisterous laugh erupted from Al, shaking the bed, as the both of you were still covered in the tent-like blanket. "My sweet darling, there is no need to worry about trivial things like that. As for my boundaries, I am the one that is initiating this, so once again, no need to worry."

His wide smile had dropped into a gentle one, fingers still caressing your lip, before moving to your cheek. You bit your lips a bit, before opening them slowly, "Okay." Ears twitched at your answer, crimson eyes filled with a hint of desire plus hesitance, as he bent down a bit, face coming closer to yours. The beating of your heart was so loud, you could hear it in your ears, and you were certain Al could hear it too. The scent of his cologne was making you dizzy- mixed with hints of blood and graveyard dirt. Reflections were seen in both of your eyes, him seeing himself and you seeing yourself. His lips continued to move closer, inch by inch, until they were placed onto yours, soft almost like a butterfly had landed on it.

The glow from his eyes had vanished, closing them as he pushed a bit further into the kiss, making you gasp a bit. A few minutes has passed, as Alastor slowly pulled away, glowing eyes returning to admire you. You felt breathless, despite how tender the kiss was, it had you weak. “Did you enjoy it?” He asked, his lips distracting you, making you forget his question. “Huh? Um..yes…it…was…nice. How about you?” You ask as if out of breath, heart fluttering still. “Surprisingly pleasing.” He said matter-of-factly, but judging from his appearance, he looked more disheveled than you.

No one uttered a word after that, the both of you continuing to stare at each other. “May I do it again?” He whispered, causing goosebumps to form all over you. You nodded, answering his question. His lips returned again, this time with more passion. The gasp you let out allowed his tongue to enter, intensifying the kiss. The weight of his body was on you now, his chest against yours, feeling his racing heart. His teeth bit your lip slightly, drawing some blood, making him hum at the taste as his tongue continued to intertwine with yours. Moaning into the kiss, you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him closer. The both of you broke the kiss, string of saliva appearing from both of your mouths. Heavy breaths could be heard, as glazed eyes stared down at you, ashen cheeks flushed. "Again." was said from him, lips returning back to you again, and again and again.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

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edgeray · 8 months ago

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Hi child :]

What about arle cooking for reader?

I think she can’t cook it’s hilarious but I’d love to see what you come up with if you decide to write it<3

Onions Are Her Weakness

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi momma!!! I've been looking forward to this one, but I do my requests based on chronological order. Finally got to this one! Was waiting to write some crack :D Reader is gonna be gender neutral. I was so excited about writing about how arle can't cook, i forgot about the prompt and decided to have reader teach arle how to cook. hopefully this is okay Content warnings / info - author attempts to be funny, author pretends that they know how to cook

Despite Arlecchino's best efforts, it had come to her beloved's attention that Arlecchino did not have much cooking experience. Like the loving partner that you are, you aim to correct that. After all, cooking is an essential life-skill that even children need to learn. How Arlecchino has yet to learn, you're not certain, but you suppose better now then never for Arlecchino.

For your sanity, maybe never was better.

Your husband is, archons bless her, talented in a number of fields. But archon, you will never allow her to set foot in the kitchen again.

It was clear that Arlecchino didn't just not have cooking experience, but she didn't have any experience, period. Neither did she have any cooking intuition, or the bare necessity, common sense. With how abysmal her skills are, you no longer find her fondness of raw meat all that surprising.

For the day, you banned the kitchen from the rest of the House of the Hearth; it was reserved for you and Arlecchino only.

You first started off with Fontainian Onion Soup. Easy enough, you naively thought.

“Okay, Arlecchino. First step is to ‘peel and thinly slice onions from–” You begin reading out, but before you can finish the instructions, a flash of black and red flies past your sight and then a crisp, wet, crunch that makes you cringe. You glance up from the book and to your utter horror, a gruesome murder scene lies in front of you on the cutting board.

You couldn't fathom what the onions did to deserve such a fate. Instead of the thinly sliced peel you're supposed to see suggested by the book, there is the sick, disgusting scene of the maimed remains of the once fresh onions. It’s like the onions are crying for death after that assault. Arlecchino stands besides you, unaware of the atrocity she commited on your counter. The knife next to you remains untouched.

“Arlecchino,” you say, as composed as one can be, though you already feel like you're about to cry–and it's not because of the onions. “You're supposed to use the knife to cut.”

Arlecchino looks at her claws for a beat of silence. “Thank you for the clarification, my love.”

She awkwardly picks up the knife, as if never having picked up a cooking tool before. Her entire fists grips around the handle, as if she continues to torture the already tormented onions. You set aside the mangled onions, and place the unharmed ones in front of her.

“Don't hold it like you're going to stab them,” you sigh, correcting her finger placement so that she was properly holding the knife. The poor onions had enough, you think to yourself. Your husband seems confused, but adjusts to the new position.

You raise the book to her eye level, pointing at the picture. “Okay, it's supposed to look like this. Cut it like that, yeah?”

Arlecchino nods, and attempts her best. Though not proportional, at least the cuts were straight. Improvement, right? The process is slow, her fingers keep returning to a stabbing position before you correct her again, reminding her that the onions do not feel pain.

Finally, she has sliced the last one, as terrible looking as all the others, but you give her some slack. You glance up at her expression, wanting to see how she felt now that she had completed the first step of the recipe.

Her face is wet. More specifically. She's crying.

“Arlecchino. You're crying.”

Arlecchino hastily wipes her eyes with her sleeves. “No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Crying is a display of weakness.”

“So onions are your weakness?”

You don't stop cackling for a good while, imagining how the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, being defeated by cut onions. Maybe the next time Arlecchino decides to have a duel with her children, you'll inform them to bring some onions and chuck them at her.

“You speak of this to no one.”

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet would benefit from this information. No, even better, this can act as blackmail. Oh, you need to engrain this into your mind. “Of course.”

You decide that you can't trust her enough to mince the garlic cloves.

The next step was caramelizing the onions in the pan.

“Arlecchino.”

“Yes?”

“What is the color of caramel?”

“It is brown, why do you ask?”

“Look at your onions, and tell me what color they are.”

Arlecchino looks down at the pan in her hand. She frowns. “They appear black.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps they are cursed like I am.”

“Arlecchino, no–”

You drag Arlecchino to the nearest market for more onions as a punishment for wasting your hard-earned money. Once you've returned, you impel her to cut and cook the onions again.

“Stir occasionally, okay? Don’t forget the oil and butter.”

This time, the onions aren’t turned to ashes, and you think, maybe Arlecchino isn't so hopeless. The next few steps are just adding the rest of the ingredients for the soup, and you make sure that even she can't mess that up. Wine, then the stock and herbs, and you get something that vaguely reminds you of puke.

Next comes the Fontainian bread. Nice crispy, cheesy bread is great with soap. This is the last step. Baking is easy. Just put things in the oven, and it'll be done.

“Take a pinch of the cheese and sprinkle it on the bread–no, Arlecchiono, that is not a pinch, that is a handful and a half. Put that back.”

“But you like cheese.”

“I like my bread with cheese, not cheese with bread.”

“They are the same thing.”

“No, one is bread with cheese, and one is a mountain of cheese suffocating the bread as if it was demanding its money back. I like being able to taste bread.”

Arlecchino pauses, likely confused by your comparison. “But you like cheese,” she repeats again, so sweet and so, oh confused. Archons, she's pouting.

“Arlecchino. I don't need this much cheese,” you quietly confess. “Put it back.”

“But–”

“Arlecchino, I love you, and I will always ask you to get me a fistful of shredded cheese when I want to. But it is not now. Put it back.”

Sometimes, you wonder how this woman, this beautiful, sexy, hot woman of your husband was a Snezynayan diplomat. This is one of those times.

“Why do we have to wait for this long, when I can just use my vision?”

“Because you will burn them, now can you please set down the tray so we don't char our bread. The bakeries are already closed, and burnt bread does not taste good.”

Arlecchino sighs and places down the cheesy breads, sparing them from their painful fate.

“I'm sure charred bread tastes acceptable. Charred meat has excellent flavor.”

That explains so many things and it makes you want to cry.

After the bread is toasted, without the assistance of Arlecchino, you serve her the homemade soup and bread, the creation taking from noon to evening. Although you're starving, watching your husband’s eyes light up upon eating her creation makes all the hair pulling and teeth gritting moments worth it. In these moments, you forget that this hopeless, loving husband was anything but just that; not the Knave, not the Fourth Harbinger, just yours. You can forgive her for the slaughtered onions and the nearly burnt bread if it meant more domestic moments like these.

In the middle of her meal, however, she stops and comments something.

“This would benefit from raw beef.”

You don't have the strength in you to deny her otherwise.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fics #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #arlecchino

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livelaughlovesubs · 5 months ago

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Heeeeya, Nini! How's it going? I can't believe its already been a year! I've been here since before that time you accidentally deleted your blog XD. Congrats! you've dominated the sub! bsd tag for forever and I'm living for it XD. For the event, can I please request Fyodor (bsd) with the prompt, 'Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess'. Bro, I have an inability to be all that sadistic, even in fiction TwT, so for the punishment part, can I request something like tickling? Is that allowed?! LMAO- As always, feel free to delete/decline this if it makes you uncomfy, and have an awesome day. And again, congrats on one year!

AHHHHH DONT REMIND ME OF THAT TIME can’t believe how dumb I was 🥲 but thank you for being a long time follower hehe, the idea with tickling is very cute I love it

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: humiliation, teasing, a tiny bit of degrading, tickling >:)

Anniversary event

Thud thud thud

Someone was hammering on your door in the middle of the night, and they just didn’t stop. You’ve been trying to ignore it for the past minutes, but the sound only got louder.

Thud thud thud

“Ahhhh which fucker is it?!” In the end, you gave in and cursed, stomping to the front door before opening a small crack. “What is-” to your surprise you knew the person behind the door, it was fyodor, your boyfriend. “Huh?? Fedya? Why didn’t you use the bell?” You immediately swung the door open and invited him in, he gave you a bashful smile before entering. Then you shut the door behind him.

“You see…” he said, while he let his coat slip from his shoulders, revealing his hands which were bound tightly behind his back. “It proved to be pretty difficult to ring the bell three times, so I thought kicking the door would suffice.” That was the secret code you two agreed on, so that you’d know if it was him who’s standing on your doorway. “Ah…” you stared at his restricted limps, then at him, giving him a questioning glance. He didn’t provide any explanation or answers.

The male turned around to face you, who were still standing next to the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” He rushed you, but kept his soft smile. “Actually no, not yet.” You replied, crossing your arms in font of your chest. That attitude, were you mad with him? “…y/n, what do you want.” Finally he dropped the good-guy act, seemingly irritated by your behaviour. Normally you’d help without being this difficult, except when you aren’t in a good mood, something that seems to be the case here.

You walked past him and sat down on the couch, making yourself comfortable before saying, “bring me the remote.” Fyodor looked a tad baffled, though he didn’t think too much about it and walked to the shelf to the left of you, pondering for a moment on how to grab it, before using his mouth to bite the object. Then he brought it to you like an obedient puppy, right into your hand and cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. “Good job.” You praised him, scratching the underside of his chin a bit, intensifying his blush.

“Now bring me a scissor to cut those ropes. You can find it in the kitchen.” He glared at you when you didn’t stop ordering him around, especially since he found his actions pretty shameful. Nevertheless, he bit back his complains and went to the other room to get whatever you wanted. Once he found the scissor, he bit the handle of the tool, and carefully got back to your side. “That took you a while.” You chuckled, to which he scoffed, “are you done with the games now?” How furious he sounded, he wasn’t having half the fun you had huh?

You tilted your head to the side, acting like you were thinking about it, then said, “one last thing.” Before giving him a big smile. The male rolled his eyes at that, at least internally. “Bring me a glass of water, that’s my last request, promise.” After you finished your sentence, you raised your pinky finger, then said, “ah silly me, you can’t reciprocate it after all.” Fyodor mumbled, “you are unbelievable.” Then he made his way back to the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do, he needed your help.

Through much resilience and great efforts, he managed to get a cup out of your shelves. And he even managed to fill it with tap water! Afterwards he bit the handle of the cup, finding that to be the easiest course of action, and slowly walked over to you. This was now his third time running a stupid errand for you, and he really hoped this would be the last. On his way back, he accidentally spilled the water in the cup all over himself and the floor, causing him to yelp a little, “hmmm..!”

You turned your head to the source of the noise, giggling at the sight but not helping him. His blush darkened even more, and he closed the last bit of distance between you two. Without any commentary, you took the cup and put it on the table, grabbing the scissors and cutting through his binds. He didn’t expect you to not make fun of him, so consider him grateful.

Though after you were done, you got up from your seat, grabbing his shoulders as you sneered, “gosh, fyodor, you couldn’t even bring me a glass of water?” Guess he jinxed it. Even though considering the circumstances he was in, failing his task was a very possible outcome, he still felt humiliated by your words, or at least embarrassed. He wanted to argue, to try and keep some shreds of dignity when you bested him to it, saying, “shouldn’t you get a punishment for that?”

“A punishment?” As soon as these words left his mouth, you pushed him into the couch and tickled him. Attacking his stomach while responding through a huge grin, “yep! A punishment you can’t evade!” “What- ha- ahaha.. no, wait haha…! Stop!” He laughed involuntarily, kicking his legs around and trying to peel your hands off his body. “Haha.. s-stop, hahh.. really, hahaha~ I can’t-!!” Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes already, his clothes and hair all disheveled. “Hehe.. alright, the punishment is over.” You eventually said, reaching out to his face to wipe his tears away.

As if hit by the realisation, he abruptly stopped smiling, still blushing furiously as he gasped for air. When he breathing calmed down, he pouted, then wrapped his arms around your neck as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips, “you-… you better make it up to me for being mean.”

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liv2post · 5 months ago

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Hii!! I'm not sure if you're still taking requests but I have one if you are, one of my favorite chapters in itlt is the baking one, and I was wondering if you could write a separate fluffy baking fic!

Hi gracie! Thanks for the request! I hope you enjoy it :D

Cinnamon Rolls

Summary: After a long first day of the school year, Severus returns to your chambers in need of your presence and excellent baked confections.

Word Count: 1179

it's the little things story here (if anyone wants to read!)

The door to your office closed with a punctuated clang, the grumpy potion master leaning against it and letting out a weary sigh. He had gotten used to the summer months he was afforded that he had forgotten how cumbersome each new batch of first years’ incompetency was. One boy had not been paying attention during the safety demonstration for handling sharp tools properly and had cut his thumb open so deeply that he needed to be sent to the Hospital Wing. He swore each new injury or exploded cauldron was going to give him a new wrinkle or grey hair.

It was only until the sound of soft music and the smell of cinnamon spice hit his senses that he was able to let go of his frustration. They were a sign of your presence. His love.

He trudged silently through your living space toward the kitchen where he was met with a sight that made his heart flutter with equal intensity each time.

You were flitting about the kitchen, a jumper with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows and lounge shorts on, but the front of your legs was partially covered by the apron you had tied around you. Your hair was clipped up and out of the way, allowing him a view of the chain you wore around your neck, one that held the ring Severus gave you that remained hidden beneath your day clothes. He could also make out a bit of flour caked along your jaw and near your neck, how you always managed to make a mess he’ll never know. It didn’t matter though. He thought you looked adorable.

As you finished stirring the bowl of glaze, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back into a firm chest.

“Hi, Severus,” you smiled, letting go of the wooden spoon and resting your hands on his forearms.

He sighed into you, his face nuzzling into your hair as he inhaled your scent, loving the way your natural fragrance mixed with the sweetness of the confections you baked.

“You smell so good…” he remarked quietly.

You chuckled. “I sure hope so.”

He tugged you a little to the side with one arm, the other coming up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head back and up, his lips eagerly connecting with yours. You hummed into the kiss, your lips moving just as enthusiastically against his whenever he was domineering with you. You felt his tongue swipe against your own and on your bottom lip, sampling the remnants of cinnamon rolls and the glaze you had been perfecting for the last five minutes.

“You taste good, too,” he pulled away with a smug smirk. Oh, how he loved the way such words reduced you to a blushing mess, your face blazing with redness as you managed to turn into his hold and bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms coming to wrap around his back. His arms readjusted similarly, stroking up and down the length of your back as you both breathed each other in, missing each other's presence as the both of you had classes to teach on the farthest sides of the castle. The both of you had gotten so accustomed to waking up next to one another, absorbing each other's constant presence in your summer cottage. But it was autumn now and the both of you had your respective duties in the school. On the flip side, it was also a school term he greatly looked forward to because you’d bake some of his favorite treats which just so happened to be in season.

What felt like many minutes passed before either of you spoke up once more.

“I missed you,” you said, voice partially muffled by his body.

“And I, you.” He pecked the side of your head.

“How was your first class?”

Severus huffed, holding you tighter. “The words necessary to describe the anticipated ineptitude I’ll be dealing with elude me.” He could feel your smile in comiseration against him. “Yours?”

“I have a feeling I’ll know who my ‘problem children’ will be, but otherwise not bad.” You kissed his neck before he released you. “I imagined you would have a rougher day than I would, so I made cinnamon rolls!” you announced, pouring the glaze over the brown, puffy rolls. “And I believe we still have some Earl Grey in the cabinet.”

The longing in his gaze deepened, the need to be close to you making him press against you his hands lightly grasping your waist as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck, just above the chain. “You’re too good to me…” he murmured. His fingers began to undo the tie around your waist as well as the one resting on the base of your neck. “Allow me to make us the tea. Have a rest on the sofa.”

“Severus, I still have to clean up—”

“Have a rest...on the sofa” he repeated more firmly, a mixture of a warning and a plea. You had done something so nice for him and now he wanted to reciprocate. And he knew that you knew this. “Don’t be stubborn, you silly girl,” he kissed you once more, this time on the forehead as he peeled the apron off of you and proceeded to kick you out of your own kitchen.

The low fire blazed away, washing the office in warm yellow-orange and flickering on along the tan pages of your book. It wasn’t even dinner yet, but the dungeons had a way of making it seem like it was always nighttime. Severus’s soft footsteps caught your attention as he entered your field of vision. A snort escaped you.

“Something amusing?” He lifted a brow.

“It seems the flour on my apron transferred onto your black robes.”

He looked down at himself and scowled. Indeed, the flour from your apron and on your face had imprinted onto his robes and collar. He set the cups of tea down on the coffee table and handed you the small plate holding two of the cinnamon rolls so he could swipe off as much of the flour as he could manage, though some appeared to be stuck.

“You could always just turn your robes white,” you teased.

“Absolutely not,” he gruffed, giving up on the attempt to clean himself in favor of being next to you. Severus settled down on the couch with you. His side pressed against you as he took a cinnamon roll and bit into it, moaning quietly at how good it was, how the sweet glaze mixed wonderfully with the spiced dough. You automatically leaned back against him, resting your head against his shoulder. The simple bliss of being with one another and enjoying the little domesticities of life washed over the both of you, his other hand interlacing with yours and his thumb gently rolling over the skin of your hand, grateful for his love that brought him so much peace.

His love, who smelled like cinnamon rolls.

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #snape x reader #pro severus snape #severus snape fanfiction #severus snape fluff #snape fluff #severus snape x y/n

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thecapricunt1616 · 8 months ago

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Bestie! Dad Carmy

Surprise! Dad! Carmy is still rotting my brain. Just thinking about Carmy during the 12-18 month stage with his first baby (more btc).

Bc like I don’t have kids myself yet but have been around them a lot and 12-18 months is when things start getting fun. Babies are laughing and starting to talk a bit more and show interests.

He would absolutely be a clingy dad. Like the first year I absolutely think he would have Syd take the reins on the restaurant and he would more handle the back of house book type things so he could just stay home more, but if he did have to go to the restaurant - I can see his little angel being The Bears mascot.

Like he would walk in, sunglasses on, baseball cap, dad mode activated wearing his baby on his front like in one of those stretchy carriers. His baby even would have on little sunglasses herself bc she gotta twin with dad, that’s her bestie. He would walk in through the back and go into the office just to grab something on his way to run some errands but would run into Tina or something and it would become a whole ordeal.

If it’s pre-service time everyone is taking turns holding her and playing with her, Carmy is proudly showing off as soon as she can say ‘dada’. You can bet if it’s pre-service he’s getting her all dressed up in a cute outfit before he goes by because he knows everyone is gonna gush over how cute she is. He would be so blushy and proud and happy whenever he has his little mini-me with him, his mood would be a full 360 from when he’s just there to work and get shit done.

And don’t get me started if one day you went for family dinner as a surprise and they’re all sitting at the table and his baby just toddles in holding her baby bear in one hand and some random kitchen tool like a whisk she picked up as you snuck in through the back and just gently taps his side and offers it to him bc she just associates cooking tools with daddy since he’s always holding them. He would be sooooo happy like the esp if it was the first time you had surprised him with her at work- Syd would be like

“I dont think I’ve ever seen him smile that way - it’s kinda creeping me out” but he doesn’t even notice enough to tease her back because he’s so entrenched in making his baby giggle and having her try the food they’d been eating to see how she likes it since at that age they’re old enough to eat solids.

Don’t even get me started on music that baby would love music all babies do but really anything art because I mean look who her dad is but never in his life did that man ever think he would WILLINGLY dance around especially in a silly way but MAN as soon as his baby starts dancing to music he can’t help himself he’s up copying them, showing them his own dad moves to make them giggle, AUGHHHH

Also ofc your baby would want to be like her mama as well, so she would play in her kids makeup sets and show her work off to him and when he is over the moon and tells her how pretty she is and how well she did, shes gonna puppy dog eye him into allowing her to do his makeup, so one day you just come home and carmy has a head full of butterfly clips, cherry red lipgloss, and bright blue sparkly eyeshadow as well as pink blush and a tiara on with your daughter in a matching one fallen asleep infront of the tv with tangled playing or some other disney movie omggggg ugh i love him

Okay guys let me get back in my cage I just had to come out and share my thoughts hahahahaha

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severely-mentally-ill · 1 year ago

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Okay. So. Hear me out.

Changbin with a taller and muscular s/o who just makes him feel so small and pretty. Like the s/o is cooking and Changbin comes into the kitchen to see if he can help when they just pick him up and set him on the counter to watch. And of course Changbin being manhandled makes him turned on as fuck, so this usually leads to an intense make out secession that turns unto Changbin getting bent over the counter and fucked until he’s crying from overstimulation

Sorry this took so long, I’ve been dealing with shit 💀

Also this is very short, I wanted to get a fic out so I made this one into a drabble.

Too Hot To Handle

• - Seo Changbin x Male!Reader

• - Smut

• - Sub!Bottom!Changbin, HardDom!Top!Reader, unprotected sex, manhandling, hair pulling, degrading, spanking, size kink, strength kink, Changbin cries

Changbin groans softly to himself at the bright light of the sun shining into the bedroom. He turns his head to face away from the window, reaching over to the other side of the bed to try and grab you, only to find the bed empty and cold. He opens his eyes and furrows his eyebrows, disappointed that you aren’t there for him to cling to, until he suddenly gets a whiff of the eggs and French toast being cooked downstairs. Changbin smiles to himself before slowly getting out of bed and heading downstairs.

Changbin currently wore one of your hoodies, the clothing being very big on him with the bottom of it nearly reaching his knees while the sleeves go far past his hands, with nothing but a pair of boxers underneath. Since the two of you had fucked the night before, Changbin wasn’t wearing much, but he was wearing one of his favorite things ever; your hoodie. His hair was a mess, his eyes were still a bit swollen and a small bit red from him crying last night, his legs were still somewhat weak, and he was a bit tired.

Changbin slowly makes his way out of your shared bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. Once he enters the kitchen, he smiles lightly to himself at the sight of you standing at the stove, shirtless with a pair of baggy gray sweatpants on while cooking some breakfast for you and him. Your hair was still a mess, your back was covered in scratches from Changbin, and Changbin could also see the few tattoos you had on your back as well as the muscles on your back; both things that Changbin loved.

Changbin walks over to stand behind you before wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you from behind. “Good morning, hyung.” He says quietly burying his face in your back. He smiles and hums in contentment. “Mmm. . . You’re warm. . .”

You chuckle lightly, placing your free hand over Changbin’s as you continue cooking the food. “Good morning to you, Binnie.” You say with a small smile on your face. “How are you this morning?”

Changbin continues to smile as he moves to stand next to you, leaning back against the counter as he looks over at you cooking. “I’m very good, thank you.” He says, his eyes trailing down your arms, gazing over your biceps, triceps, down to your forearm, wrists, until he lands on your huge, veiny hands. He loved those hands and those arms, he loved them so much. “Can I. . . um. . . Can I help you with anything, hyung?”

Changbin looks back up at your face, trying to distract himself. He was still feeling a bit overstimulated from last nights activities, and he was trying to stop himself from getting too turned on that he would need you to fuck him once again. Of course, though, he ends up failing from what you do next.

You put your mixing tool down before moving over to stand in front of Changbin. “You. . .” You trail off as you grab Changbin’s waist and lift him up so he’s now sitting on the counter right next to the stove. You then place your hands on his knees as you look down into his, now very wide and very dilated eyes. “Can sit there and look pretty while I cook.”

Changbin has his mouth agape as he watches you go back to cooking. Changbin feels himself growing more and more aroused as the seconds past, the feeling of you handling him as if he weighed nothing was such a huge turn on. He loved be thrown around like a toy, he loved being manhandled, and he was just so sensitive. Even the simple act of you lifting him onto the counter was enough to turn him on.

“Hyung. . .” He whispers, squeezing his thighs together. He closes his eyes as his cheeks flush in embarrassment from how quickly he got so aroused, and from how easily he got aroused. “Hyung, you’re so mean. . .” He then opens his eyes and looks up at you as you continue cooking his and your breakfast. “I love it. . .”

You raise your eyebrow at the shorter male, looking at him with a side glance. You knew what he was hinting at, you knew what he was saying, but. . . why not tease him a bit more? Why not keep him on the edge? He loves when you’re mean, you know he does, so why not give him something he loves and be just a bit more mean to him? “You enjoy it a bit too much, Bin.” You say in a seemingly “innocent” tone. “Quit squeezing your thighs together. You’re just going to make yourself more needy.”

Changbin pouts and whines softly before relaxing his thighs and looking down at the floor. “If you don’t want me doing that then help me. . .” He mumbles, reaching over and grabbing your hand. “Please, hyung. . . Will you help me. . . ?”

All it took was you looking over into Changbin’s eyes. The next thing either of you knew, Changbin was bent over the kitchen counter, his boxers around his ankles, the hoodie he wore scrunched up around his waist, his back arching, and his mouth open while moans fall from his lips as you stand behind him, your hands tightly gripping his waist and hoodie while you pound into him at a pace too quick for either of you to truly follow. At this point, all Changbin can think about is how good you feel when you’re so deep inside of him.

“Ah! Hyung! Oh. . . Oh, h-hyung. . .” He whimpers, his hands reaching behind him to try and grab your waist, hips, or thighs. Anything in order to make you go even deeper. You, however, end up grabbing his hands and tossing them forward onto the counter, preventing him from touching you. “H-Hyung. . .” He whimpers, tears welling in his eyes. “F-Feels so g-good. . .”

You reach forward and grip his hair before pulling it back harshly, causing him to whine and then let out a small sob as tears spill from his eyes. His hands clench into fists, the intense pleasure of it plus how sensitive he still was from last night made it so his orgasm came much faster and more intense. Yet, even after he cums, you still continue with your thrusts. You knew he loved the pain from overstimulation, plus you hadn’t cum yet, so might as well satisfy the both of you.

#bora writes smut - Changbin #sub stray kids #sub skz #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #sub changbin smut #sub changbin #sub seo changbin #sub!changbin smut #sub!changbin #sub!seo Changbin #sub stray kids smut #sub skz smut #sub!stray kids smut #sub!skz smut

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urdepressedslut · 2 years ago

Text

Off Day

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky helps comfort you after you’ve had a bad day.

♡ Warnings: fluffy, angst, hurt/comfort, injury to reader, slight self hate, language

A/N: in my perfect world, everyone is still alive because i just can’t handle the truth 🤪

You ever just have a day where nothing goes right?

It started the moment you had woken up, a random sharp pain shooting up your back. The ache causing you to grimace, the pain already putting you off.

You thought to yourself of the possible reasons for the random ache. You had done your normal workout yesterday, having your usual walk through the city. You grabbed coffee with the boys, then went over to Sarah’s. It was all part of your routine.

Giving yourself time to fully wake up, you tried to brush away the pain— determined to move on with your day.

You had showered, gotten dressed and headed to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. Everything was going smoothly, until it wasn’t.

The coffee maker was acting up. You stood waiting— unplugging and plugging the machine. All your attempts were useless, as the coffee maker still wasn’t working. You went to put your mug away, when all of a sudden the ceramic slipped from your fingers— crashing to the floor.

You reacted by clenching your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take deep breaths. You were trying not to lose it. Were your fingers slippery? You were never this clumsy.

“Just take deep breaths. Everything’s fine.” You muttered to yourself.

Despite your achey back, you got on your hands and knees— cleaning up the mess you made. What a morning.

After helping Tony and Bruce in the lab, you headed back to your room to get ready for lunch. You had made plans with your friend, Elena. You hadn’t seen her in forever, and you both finally made time to see each other.

You took a quick shower, now staring into your closet— trying to decide on what to wear. You didn’t have time to think too hard on your outfit, because your phone vibrating on your dresser got your attention.

Reading the caller ID, you saw it was Elena.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” You answered, walking back over to the closet— phone to ear.

“Hey so um… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it today.” She told you.

Your face instantly dropped, disappointed that you weren’t going to be able to see her. You had really missed her.

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you mad?” Elena hesitantly asked.

“No, not at all. It’s just been a rough day and I was really looking forward to seeing you.” You assured her, trying to keep your tone light.

You really wanted to say, ‘Hey girl, my days been pretty shit so far— I really fucking miss you.’

You heard her sigh in relief over the phone.

“I’m sorry babes, something came up at work and I can’t push it aside. I already have gotten written up twice.” She told you, and you could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Damn Elena, what trouble are you getting into?” You joked.

“Absolutely nothing. Just my fists dealing with some sexist workers, that’s all.” She explained so casually.

“Wow, respect.” You hummed proudly.

“Anyways, let’s catch up soon. For now, I gotta go. Love ya!”

“Bye.” You said solemnly, hanging up.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your thumbs. You were frustrated with how everything was turning out for you. You were frustrated with today.

“The universe is punishing you. I’m sure of it.” You mumbled to yourself, slipping on some leggings and a plain red shirt.

You totally skipped the idea of lunch, heading back downstairs to the lab. You just wanted the day to end, so you could start over tomorrow.

The universe was indeed punishing you, as things went from good to bad real quick in the lab.

It was simple really. Tony asked for you to grab a tool. You had blindly stuck your hand in the cabinet, reaching for said tool when all of a sudden you felt a sharp stinging in your hand.

“Ah fuck!” You ripped your hand out, inspecting the damage.

You should’ve been surprised, but how the day had went so far— you didn’t even blink an eye. There was a deep gash in your palm, bleeding freely.

“You okay (Y/n)?” Bruce ran over, worried eyes on you.

You waved him off, trying to hide your hand.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Just stubbed my finger on something.”

Tony walked up next to Bruce, giving you a look like he knew you were hiding something.

“You sure about that?” Tony pried.

You shook your head, giving them the fakest smile you had.

“Yeah, all good. Excuse me for a second.” You said politely, rushing yourself out of the room.

You weren’t sure what had brought the sudden wave of tears, but you assumed it was all of todays shit finally hitting the fan. Everything that had happened was barely life threatening, and some would say you were being dramatic— but you were mentally fed up with today. All you wanted to do was sleep it off.

You had almost made it to your room, but with your vision blurred with tears— you bumped into a muscular chest.

“Oh, sorry doll— hey, you alright?” Bucky asked you, holding you upright from him nearly knocking you over. He quickly noticed your cheeks glistening from your tears.

Those simple words, ‘You alright?’ triggered something in you, pushing more tears out. You felt pathetic.

“Hey, hey— what’s wrong?” He softly asked again, but he noticed your bloody cradled hand, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, trying to show that he didn’t have to worry.

“No, I’m fine really just… Not having the best day.” You muttered out, sniffling— feeling ashamed of yourself.

Here was Bucky standing in front of you. He had gone through so much, went through hell, and he was strong enough to still be standing here today. He was incredible.

Then there was you, upset about having an off day.

Yes— it wasn’t a competition, but when you put it into that perspective it sounds bad.

“Let’s stop the bleeding, okay?” He suggested, still holding onto your arms.

“Seriously, I’m fin—”

You suddenly stopped, feeling him take your non injured hand— pulling you towards your room. At last, you had made it to your space.

“Go sit. I’ll grab some supplies.” He told you, and you were in no state to argue.

You didn’t want to have to ask for help, but a part of you really needed to be taken care of. What better person to comfort you than Bucky, he was your rock.

He was back in less than a minute, gauze and medical tape in hand. He kneeled down in front of your perched form, gently taking your bloody hand. He began to clean it as carefully as he could, while in his mind he wondered what had happened.

“You go on a mission I didn’t know about?” He tried to joke, but couldn’t get you to smile.

You shook your head, keeping your gaze on your hand.

“Just had an accident in the lab.”

He nodded and focused back on your hand. Wiping it clean of red— wrapping it with the gauze. He released your hand, letting you cradle it back to yours chest. He plopped down to your left, his weight on the bed making you lean into him.

“You wanna tell me what’s really going on?” He asked, and you furrowed your brows. “I’ve seen you walk away unbothered with worse injuries.”

You were aware he’d caught your admission that you were having a bad day, and a small part of you had wished he’d forgotten. But Bucky being well… him— of course he remembered.

You stayed silent, brain coming up empty with a good lie.

“This can’t be what’s go you so upset,” He motioned to your hand, to which you cradled further into your chest, “What’s going on doll?”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned your head on his shoulder. To which he leaned his head against yours, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“Just a bad day.” You whispered finally.

He placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze, rubbing his thumb soothingly.

“Did someone say something to you? Was it Tony?” He questioned, waiting for you to drop a name. He’d be gone in a second, ready to tell off whoever was bothering you.

“No one’s bothering me.”

He relaxed instantly, relived that nobody was messing with you. He moved his head off of yours, turning his body to face you. You slowly faced him too, catching his confused expression.

“Like I said, bad day.” You told him with a shrug.

He frowned at your sad expression, wishing he could take all your frustrations away.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked you.

Your heart swelled at his gesture. He was always so sweet, so understanding. He was patient with you when he shouldn’t be, he was what got you through the hardest days. He meant so much to you.

“Just snuggle with me.” You told him shyly.

“I can do that!” He exclaimed all excited.

He picked you up, placing you to stand next to the bed. You watched with an amused expression as he got the pillows all aligned. He took the blankets, making a circle with them— almost forming some kind of nest. He placed your build-a-bear teddy in the middle, and stepped back with a smile.

“What do you think?”

You shook your head and laughed, body already feeling lighter— the stress fading away.

“I think you’re a huge dork.” You laughed.

He rolled his eyes, slipping off his shoes and jacket. He plopped down in the middle of the bed, the blankets surrounding him.

“Whatever, now get in here.” He demanded playfully.

You followed shortly, crawling into the blanket nest with him. He leaned back, pulling you with him.

“Thanks Buck.” You mumbled into his chest.

He smiled, giving you a gentle squeeze, rubbing his hands over your back.

“Don’t have to thank me. I’m always here for you.” He told you genuinely.

Your heart swelled, chest warm with adoration. How did you get so lucky?

He held you for awhile, both of you talking occasionally. After a bit, you started getting tired, and ended up falling asleep in his arms.

Bucky smiled to himself, gazing at your sleeping form. Your face was relaxed, your body wasn’t tensed up anymore. He couldn’t stand the fact that you’d had a bad day, and he was glad you looked so peaceful now.

You were so glad to have someone like Bucky to help comfort you when you were having an off day.

#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #reader insert #sebastian stan #fluff #buckybarnes #marvel imagines #light angst #oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #protective bucky barnes

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dinogoofymutated · 10 months ago

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So I'm warming up to the idea of Cable now with this new animation style. And now I can't help but imagine a mutant reader seeing him shirtless for the first time 👉🏽👈🏽. Maybe she's helping him treat a wound he cant reach on his back and he's too worn out to rely on his telekinesis for it. Sure she knows that he has a metal arm. Techno-organic viruses were nasty business. But she never imagined she'd get to see the stark contrast of metal and flesh up close. Just a tender moment where she gets to see him at his most vulnerable. Preferably sfw. Sorry if this is too long winded or specific. Really love your writing and enjoy what you share with us regardless if u choose this one or not 🫶🏽

SFW!Cable/GN!Reader OOOOGHHHH when I tell you I have been thinking about this since you sent me the ask!! I've been dying to write this but forced myself to follow a schedule :( I've never really been a Cable girly but this scenario has been in my head non-stop! I just hope this fic does the same to others!!! Speaking of which, I hope this isn't too OOC for him! This also might get a pt 2 with some smooching 😘

Read pt. 2 Here :)

-Ps- Heads up, finals week is coming up for me and I have a lot of essays and work to do. my writing is sadly going to slow down a bit. I don't think I'm going to close requests for now but it's not out of the realm of possibility! TWs: Can't really think of any. Gross depictions of techno-organic shit. As always, Reader written while picturing fem! but no pronouns mentioned. The reader is short in this one, sorry to all my Amazonian friends.

Prime sentinels were like wasps. Squashing one could be relatively easy with the right tools, but it was difficult to handle multiples at once. It had been a rough day, and your ears were still ringing from the sounds of blaster fire when you got to the safe house. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, body exhausted from overusing your mutant powers. Bruises are forming all over you, and despite the pain and soreness, you know you got off easy compared to Cable.

He’s got an arm slung around your shoulder, using you as a crutch as you help him limp over to the table- although you’re sure you’re not a very good one, too short for him to properly lean on. His gun clanks on the floor as he sits, grunting as the movement sends shooting pains through his body. You can tell his left arm is aching, the techno-organic virus fighting to beat the telekinetic powers keeping them still. You weren’t the only one who overdid it today, but you also weren’t the one who had to keep a virus from eating you alive.

Once Cable is settled, the routine starts. You cautiously make a round through the safe house, making sure blinds are drawn and entryways secured. Usually, the task was split between the two of you, being faster and safer than it would be alone- but he would take it over when you were badly hurt. It was only natural that you would do the same. You feel the sting of anxiety and worry in your heart. Cable had saved your ass today. He had done so many times, but normally the fighting wasn’t this extreme. You had been stupid, and he was suffering the consequences.

A series of pained grunts lead you back into the kitchen once you’ve finished, and you can tell Cable is pissed just by the tone of them. You’re facing his back when you walk in, noticing the large red stain that spans across the width of his shoulders. You try to hide the worry on your face as you approach him. He has the medkit sprawled out on the counter, sorting through the various items in it.

“Can’t believe this thing doesn’t have a damn mirror.” He grunts. You hum in response, looking him over before examining the items on the table.

“What do you need a mirror for?” You ask, voice coming out a little hoarse. You clear your throat, must be from the smoke earlier. Cable sends you a look, tossing his head towards his back. You mouth an “oh” before looking at him, unable to hide your worried expression. You’d seen him stitch his wounds up with his telekinesis before, when the fight was all guns and no powers. An action like that was child’s play for someone of his capabilities. For him to actively avoid it, and the way his arm seemed to be bothering him more than normal… It made you worried. It made you feel guilty.

You look down at the suture kit, open on the table from where Cable had unzipped it, and then look back at him, wordlessly asking. He gives you a cautious look for a moment, before it shifts into something much softer. He doesn’t bother nodding, choosing to simply take his shirt off instead.

You blush a little but quickly get to work, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. They’re too big for you, meant to fit Cable’s sturdy hands instead of your own smaller ones. You try not to get distracted by the sight of him shirtless as you pick up what you need and get behind him. The air has shifted between the two of you, forming into something a little more intimate. Something that builds itself on words unspoken, truths that neither of you is quite ready to communicate yet.

His back is broad and beautiful, dotted with scars and bruises. The gash on his shoulders is from a stray blast, starting at the top of his left shoulder and ending at the lower shoulder blade of his right.

You’re not sure if you had been ready to see the cut-off between flesh and metal.

The cords of metal attach to the skin of his shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. They sprout from underneath the skin, winding against each other in a way that makes no clear sense to you. The top layers of skin are rough, keloid scarring having formed at the impasse of skin and metal. It's horrific, the way the virus has both eaten and forced its way under the skin. The top of the gash is somewhat deep, the deep inner cording revealed by the wound cutting through the top of his skin has you unable to look away despite the horror that has taken you.

“I can feel you staring, you know.” Cable’s rumbling voice causes you to snap back to reality.

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You trail off, not fully able to place the words. He sighs, and you mistake it for annoyance. You quickly get back on track and begin to disinfect the wound. Cable hardly flinches as you do so. You’re overly cautious as you stitch him up, focusing on each stitch being perfectly placed. You know they wouldn’t stay for long. Cable had a habit of tearing his stitches. You hope that maybe you’d be able to keep that from happening this time.

You place both hands on his shoulder blades when you are done. The nerves have worn off as the pseudo-doctor in you took over. You’re trying to examine the stitches, but find that your attention keeps being drawn back to that stark contrast of his shoulder. If Cable notices, he doesn’t say anything. You glance at the back of his head, trying to gauge what he’s feeling.

Your left hand drifts a little. Cable shudders as your thumb gently traces that line of scarring, the metal of his arm feeling extra cold compared to the heat of his skin. You’re waiting for him to say something. To tell you to back off. To grumble and shake you off and avoid speaking to you like he used to when you first started to work together- when he was so determined not to get attached.

But he doesn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. The tenseness of his shoulders slowly gives as the gentle touching morphed into more purposeful touches, working the stiff muscles- what was left of the organic ones, anyway.

It’s intimate. It’s quiet. It’s… nice. Part of you wishes it would last a little longer. Part of you wishes he would let you touch him like this more often.

Cable stiffens again as the thought crosses your mind, recoiling away from you. He stands suddenly, turning around to face you. His towering stature used to make you nervous out of fear. Now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. Part of you had forgotten about the glimpses he takes into your mind. A flicker of anxiety ignites when you realize how much he might have seen. The two of you just look at each other for a moment, his brown eyes hard compared to the softness from earlier. You hadn’t meant to think so much. You didn’t think he was horrific. It was the virus. What it was doing to him. The energy and effort it takes out of him. That was what scared you.

Cable was used to the stares. The horror. Most recoiled at the sight of his flesh. It only made sense to him when you did too.

But Nathan… Nathan wasn’t ready for the depth of your thoughts. The care in your eyes. He wasn’t ready for the depth of his own feelings. The ones that cause such a storm within him. The ones that cause him to be stupid. The ones that make him focus more on saving you than the goal of every mission.

“Is this… Are we okay?” You ask. He didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the fear that has swelled within you. Most of your emotions were always written on your face. It made things easier for him when he didn’t have to search for your thoughts. That hardness in his eyes softens yet again, and he glances away for a moment.

“... Yeah.” Is all he says. His heart feels light when you finally smile at him, even though an underlying nervousness still resides behind that smile. You let out a relieved sigh, and he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Instead, he sits back down. He faces away from you, giving you the space to finish taking care of the wound on his back.

You don’t realize how late it is until you’re finished, and the mess on the counter has been cleaned and contained back in the medkit. The two of you sit together as you eat. The food isn’t great- consisting of an MRE that’s not exactly as advanced as the futuristic weapons and technology would lead you to believe. He doesn’t say anything when you lean on his shoulder, or when your breathing evens out, having fallen asleep on his side.

The aches and pains don’t really bother Nathan as he carries you to bed, but the thoughts of you, your feelings, your thoughts… Those keep him awake longer than any wound would.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #nathan summers headcannons #Cable imagines

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 year ago

Text

To Love and Cakes

Summary: Y/n is the daughter of a flower and gardening tools shop's owner in Velaris. When he gets sick, y/n makes her father take some rest and looks after the small shop herself. But she is new to all this as her father never let her work a day in her life.

One day, as she's looking after the shop, a red haired high fae comes looking for gardening gloves as a gift to someone. Y/n helps him, and learns that he is a frequent customer.

Due to his frequent visits, they soon develop a bond. More than friends, but not lovers.

Yet.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: i dont think there are any but still, here we go. elain being a sour and jealous mate even though she's been sailing on the elriel ship, a few curse words and all. Can't think of anything else, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: this thing has been in my draft for faxing months. This is, to me, the best work of mine. This is my baby. I LOVED writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

(ps. even if youre not a lucien girlie, try reading it. i have a secret agenda to make every one of you creatures a lucien simp, just like im trying to make @artists-ally a lucien simp)

(also, the scene towards the end where reader is dancing was inspired by one of the fbaa books, if it seemed familiar or you were wondering)

t'is a long one children, Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

As Y/n finished walking around the store, cleaning, she thought back to the morning two days ago.

She had just woken up and was walking towards her father's kitchen for breakfast when she heard it. A cough. She quickened her pace, entering the kitchen to find her father bent over, his body heaving from the coughs.

She rushed to him, helping him to the nearest chair. When she bought him some water, he smiled up at her gratefully.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take some rest, father? Why won't you let me help you?"

"I might be getting old, but not that old that I need to rely on my daughter to help me earn. Unless you are trying to steal my shop?"

"Father!" She said, exasperated, even though she knew he was just saying that to irritate her. "You are staying home till you get better. I'll take care of the shop."

"But you don't know anything about it." At the glare she gave him, he finally conceded. "Let me help for today atleast. Show you how to handle it. I promise I'll rest."

She had come to visit and stay with her father for some days, having just quit her previous job, searching for a new one. They were well off, the house that Y/n lived in owned by her. She had wanted to see if her father needed any help around. Which he didn't. He wasn't very old and ill by any means, he just didn't know when to stop. That's why she had already made her father agree to closing the store earlier and taking the weekends off.

As Y/n put away the cleaning equipment in the back of the store, the bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of a customer. As she hurried to the front desk, she caught a glimpse of the beautiful male that was waiting from behind a shelf.

He had dark crimson hair cascading over his shoulder that looked like fire, with one russet eye and one that was a golden metal one, which was whirring. A scar marred the skin surrounding that eye and trailed to his jaw.

Y/n quickly averted her gaze when she realised she was staring. He hadn't yet noticed her though, looking around the shop. She stepped out from behind the shelf and cleared her throat.

He turned to her at once, giving her a warm smile.

"Hello. How can I help you today?" She asked with a small smile.

"I'm looking for enchanted gardening gloves."

She wracked her brain for the location of said gloves before perking up. "Right this way." As she led the way, he followed a respectful distance away. To fill the silence, she spoke up. "Are you from Night Court? You don't seem like you're from here."

"Yes. I'm from... Autumn Court." His hesitation was evident, and Y/n didn't push.

"Here we are." She said, stopping in front of the gloves stacked neatly on a shelf. She left him alone when he nodded.

She began sorting out her desk, her father's, really, which was near the entrance to the shop.

By the time she finished, the male was done with his browsing and bought out the gloves to the desk to pay for them. The whole ordeal went silently and quickly. With a word of thanks and a 'good day', he was on his way.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He stared at her. His mate.

He wondered if, under other circumstances, she would have not despised him. Could she have ever loved him the way others loved their mates? Would the two of them be together if there was no cruelty in this world?

He answered those himself.

The first one? Probably.

The second one? Maybe.

The third one? No.

Because, if there was no cruelty in this world, his love, one his father had killed, would not be dead. Jesminda would be alive still. And if she was alive, he wouldn't care for anything, even his own mate.

And maybe that made him an asshole, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he stared at Elain smiling at the Shadowsinger from the corner of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked around the room, his eyes landing on the gift he'd bought for her. It was enchanted gardening gloves so her hands wouldn't get cut. Of course, the present had been discarded in a corner, unopened. It wasn't as if she didn't notice the gift. No, he had seen her look at it before placing it aside from her other gifts.

He'd seen her do that, and his heart had been pierced by an arrow. At least it felt like it.

As he stared at the gift, his mind drifted to the shop where he had bought it from. The shop run by the female. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even said much, but she had simply caught his attention.

He blinked when a loud laugh interrupted his thoughts, looking at the inner circle sitting in the center of the room and having the time of their lives, while he sat in the darkest corner he could find. He knew he didn't fit in here, and that most of them didnt trust or like him.

He didn't know why he had accepted Feyre's invitation to stay for the night when he knew he'd be miserable.

He had thought that maybe, just maybe, they would include him in their fun. At least for one night.

He felt so dumb now.

After a little bit of contemplation, he decided it best if he left. No one was going to miss him anyways.

Quietly, he downed the whiskey in his glass, then rolled onto his feet. He set the glass on a nearby table, then turned towards the door. He walked towards it, his boots making no noise.

As he exited the room, there was no sign of the festivities slowing down. None. He removed his coat from the nearby hook, donning it as he stepped out, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn't until Lucien was out of the house that the sounds faltered for a brief moment, but then the laughter started back again, and Lucien sighed, his breath misting in front of him. He stared at the little cloud of fog in front of his face.

He didn't want to go home– if it could even be called that– not yet. The night was still young. Maybe he would go on a little walk around Velaris before he returned to the mortal lands.

He started the trek across the city, walking slowly, letting his mind wander, his eyes seeing everything but taking nothing in. It was like a waste of time, looking at the beauty but not caring enough to appreciate it.

He sighed, making his way through the vibrant market place. The children running around the place, candies in their hand, adults lingering around the place with their lovers and families truly added to the beauty of the festival.

But Lucien's eyes were unseeing, his heart unfeeling as he avoided the running and giggling children.

Someone slammed into Lucien from somewhere near him, and that finally broke him out of the haze that he'd been in.

He glanced at the fae leaning against him, trying to gain her footing in the crowded area.

"I am so sorry. I got pushed–" The female looked up at him, finally stable on her feet. She cocked her head, a smile spreading on her lips. "Oh. It's you."

He returned the smile, somehow easier than it should have been considering the foul mood he'd been. "It's me. I don't think I caught your name this morning."

The lady from the gardening shop grinned, her cheeks rosy, glowing with happiness. "Y/n."

"Lucien." He mumbled, studying her. She nodded, holding out her hand. He took it.

Then they stood there, awkwardly trying to figure out what to say. "Um... enjoying solstice?"

"Yeah." She returned, a relieved expression on her face. "Just left the house after dinner. My father said he's going out with some friends, so I decided to head out for some desserts. You?"

"Not really..." That was not the right answer, but Lucien was struggling to put on his mask of indifference.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Are you alone?"

He smiled ruefully as he looked away. "Very."

After a moment of silence, the lady spoke up again. "What are your thoughts on some cake? Pie? Or maybe cookies?"

Lucien blinked, then glanced at her. "What?"

She grinned, turning away and gesturing with her hand to follow her. Seeing that he had no other reason to haunt the streets of Velaris, he followed her.

She weaved in and out of the crowd, walking with purpose towards her destination. She stumbled sometimes, due to being pushed around by the crowd, but mostly by herself. She seemed to have a problem walking without tripping.

She tripped again, so bad that Lucien had to catch her elbow to stop her from faceplanting. She grinned up at him sheepishly.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes."

"Are you... drunk?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't drink. It's taste is disgusting."

A small smirk made is way into Lucien's face, but he simply nodded at her to keep going. She continued on.

Soon, she was walking into a brightly lit shop, cakes and various baked goods displayed through the glass.

"This is my favourite place for sweets and baked items. It's really good."

She went to open the door, but Lucien stretched out his hand and held it for her. She blinked at him before smiling and stepping in to the warm interior.

"Hello." She greeted the kind looking old lady behing the counter, who smiled widely.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good. How about yourself?" Y/n replied.

"I'm good, I'm good. Just these joints creaking a little extra nowadays."

Y/n grinned fondly. "Maybe you should just get some rest, you old hag."

"Oh shut it. I will rest once I know I have succeded in convincing you to get a partner. Mother knows how lonely you must be."

"I'm not lonely, you old hag. As long as I have you and father, I will never be alone."

"Yeah yeah whatever." Then the old female seemed to notice Lucien, and her eyes lit up. "Are you finally seeing someone?"

Y/n blinked, then glanced at Lucien. Her lips parted, then a flush climbed up her neck. She furiously shook her head, and the old lady sighed.

"Well, hope I'm not dead when you finally decide to interact with others." The female bustled away as other people walked upto the counter to place their order.

Y/n turned to Lucien, her face red, and she gestured to the display of sweets. He grinned when she turned away again. "Choose what you would like to try. I always go for pineapple, but chocolate is also good."

Lucien dipped his head in a nod when she glanced at him to make sure he understood her, and then the two of them went on to get their cakes.

As they were about to leave the shop, the owner of the shop called to him. "Psst. Hey! You!"

When Lucien glanced up questioningly, the lady Y/n had been talking to motioned at him to come closer. He inched towards the counter behind which the lady stood as Y/n talked to another one of the workers.

"What are your intentions for her?" The lady hissed at Lucien as soon as she was sure no one could hear her.

Lucien blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Don't you dare even think of hurting her. Males have hurt her enough. She is a pure soul, and if you hurt her, then I will carve your eyes out with a spoon. You hear me young man?"

Lucien nodded, dumbfounded. Thank the cauldron though, Y/n decided that moment to walk up to the two of them.

The old lady smiled at her, and then shooed Y/n and Lucien away. Y/n rolled her eyes and led Lucien out of the shop.

She crossed the road and settled onto one of the many benches overlooking the Sidra. She patted the place next to her and he obliged, studying her.

"What were you and the old hag talking about?"

"Nothing..."

Y/n raised a brow but stayed silent as she dug into the treat in her hands.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate, staring at the waters of the Sidra.

Unfortunately, soon enough the two of them were done eating, and Y/n turned to Lucien. She smiled. "Did you like the cake?"

Lucien gave her a smile. A genuine one, one that felt like he hadn't smiled in centuries. He probably hadn't.

"I did. Thank you for making my solstice better."

"I enjoyed the time too, no need to thank me."

And then the two of them parted ways, Lucien thanking her again and her telling him not to worry about it.

Lucien watched her until she had vanished between the crowd, then he turned and decided to walk to secluded place before he winnowed back to human lands.

A soft breeze caressed his face, and he closed his eyes, savoring the cool touch. His mind drifted back to Y/n.

He smiled softly, opening his eyes and leaning his head back, staring at the stars twinkling down at him, as if they were winking.

Maybe... just maybe, not all fae were miserable and hateful.

Maybe there was someone out there, like Y/n, who would not hate him for simply existing.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Y/n only had one thought in her mind, and that was to hurry up.

She had been out in the market, getting the things she needed according to the cooking book she had recently bought.

She had decided to surprise her best friend since childhood with a home baked cake, and hence the rush to get home and start the preparations.

The catch?

Y/n was shit at baking.

The few times she had tried to bake, she had either ended with something that was too hard to even be called a rock, or with something that vaguely resembled... puke.

Even thinking about it sent shivers up Y/n's spine.

But back then she hadn't used a cookbook's instruction, she tried to reason with the sane part of her brain, the one that knew this was a bad idea.

Hurry up-

And she smacked into a wall. A very warm wall.

All her bags slipped from her hands and onto the ground as she stumbled back, barely keeping herself from falling onto her ass.

She lifted her head to apologise to whoever she had crashed onto when her eyes met russet and gold. Lucien.

She paused as she watched him cock his head, a little smile spreading on his features.

"I seem to notice a pattern, Y/n."

She lifted an eyebrow as she bent to gather her stuff. He followed. "What pattern?"

She tried to shoo him off by waving her hands, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. "You are always crashing into me. That sounds like a pattern to me."

She scowled, knowing that if her father or any of her friends saw her, they would yell at her for being disrespectful to someone who was helping her.

He grinned, glancing at her as he stood, most of her bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help carrying these?" He questioned when she climbed to her feet too, and she blinked.

"Oh no, it's alright. I'll carry them myself. I don't want to bother you."

"I insist. And it's really not a bother. I have nothing else to do. These are really heavy, let me help."

"You really don't have anything else to do?"

He smiled triumphantly, as if he knew he had won. "I don't."

She sighed. "Fine then. My house is nearby. Thank you vey much."

He shook his head, that smile still on his face. "No worries."

She led him to her house, a peaceful silence between the two.

It wasn't long before they reached her house, and she turned to him, keys in her hand.

"Please come in. Let me make you some tea." That was the least she could do for him.

"Oh no, that is unnecessary, I don't want to bother you. It was my pleasure to help."

"I insist. And it really is not a bother." She smirked, throwing his words back at him.

He shook his head, grinning. "Fine."

She let the two of them in, setting about to get some tea ready. "So, may I ask what you are going to with these?"

When Y/n turned to look at him, he gestured at the bags he set on the counter.

"Because from what I saw outside, these things are usually used for baking."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah. It's my friends birthday today. I was thinking of making her a cake."

"That's great. Do you bake often?"

Her smile now turned sheepish. "No. I tried a couple of times, back when I was younger," -six months ago- "and I damn near brought down the whole kitchen once."

Lucien chuckled. "So now you think you can do it properly?"

She picked up the cookbook nearby and waved it at him. "I will follow instructions this time."

Judging by the amusement in his eyes, she thought he would laugh, but he didn't. He simply extended his hand towards her and asked, "Can I have a look?"

She handed it to him, turning to check on the tea she was brewing.

The sound of the pages being flipped were the only sounds other than her pouring the liquid into cups for the two of them.

When she turned back around, she found him staring intensely at the book, his brows furrowed, a downward tilt to his mouth. She tried to make no noise as she set down the cup in front of him, hoping to not disturb his concentration.

But he glanced up at her, frowning. "This won't work. This is too complicated."

Y/n blinked, taken aback by the seriousness in his eyes and words. "What do you mean?"

He closed the book, setting it aside as he pulled the cup of tea towards him. "Baking is simpler than whatever bullshit is given in there."

"You know how to bake?"

"I helped my mother when I was younger."

"And exactly how many years ago was that?"

His eyes narrowed. "How many years since you baked anything?"

That made Y/n shut up.

She sighed ruefully. "Maybe I'm just not supposed to bake."

Lucien shook his head. "I can help."

She glanced at him. "What?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything else to do anyways. I can help you bake the cake."

"I don't want to bother-"

"Its not a bother. I would love to help."

Y/n smiled behind her cup as she took a sip of her tea, a warmth spreading through her chest.

"Thank you. I appreciate the gesture." Then, she looked at the redhead for a moment longer before turning away. "And you know what? I am noticing a pattern too."

•○🌑○•

After a day filled with trying to decide on the flavour for the cake, the decorations, making the cake and laughter, it was finally time to sleep.

The party had been perfect, so many memories made, and so many things she could think about.

But no matter what, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about him.

She didn't remember the last time she had enjoyed herself so thoroughly around a male, let alone one she knew nothing about.

And as she went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how his eyes twinkled in amusement when she had dropped an egg on the ground- huffing and puffing- she failed to keep that smile off of her face.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien's pov.

After the day filled with helping her bake, correcting anything she had been doing wrong and watching as happiness spread across her face when the cake came out almost nearly perfect, it was finally time to sleep.

The day had been perfect, a reprieve from the constant ugly thoughts Lucien had about himself. Memories had been made, though unexpected.

But no matter what, Lucien could not stop thinking about her.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself so thoroughly around someone, let alone someone he barely knew anything about.

And as he went to sleep that night, trying not to think of how she had jumped around and squealed in excitement- so much so that she had nearly burnt herself by the hot pan- Lucien failed to keep that smile off of his face.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Soon enough, Y/n learned that the handsome male with the metal eye, Lucien, was the Lucien Vanserra. The youngest son of the High Lord of Autumn Court.

He frequented the shop after that day they spent baking, him and Y/n becoming fast friends. He'd told her that he lived in the human lands with his friends, Jurian and Vassa.

Recently, she had learned that this Jurian he was friends with was the Jurian from the war centuries ago, the powerful human commander, remade by the Cauldron.

Expect Lucien to surprise a four hundred year old fae who thought she could not be surprised about anything anymore.

Y/n shook her head with an exasperated grin, finishing braiding her hair. She had spent the whole afternoon wondering what hairstyle would look good with her dress for her meeting with Lucien, eventually settling for a simple braid. Few strands framed her face, and she thought it looked better than any elaborate hairstyle she could have done.

Even after six months of being friends with him, he never failed to shock her by telling her things about himself.

He had sent a letter in advance that he would be visiting today, and he wanted to meet with her in their favourite cafe before reporting to the High Lord.

She had, of course, agreed. He was the only friend she had other than the female she had baked for, what with her being cooped up in her home with a book in hand when she wasn't working in the nearby jewellery store.

A knock sounded on the door, and Y/n practically flew down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm her heart before opening the door.

There he stood in all his glory, smiling at her. The fading sunshine made his hair look on fire, his skin glowing.

"My lady. You look quite...dishevelled." He murmured, his eye twinkling. Y/n frowned, lifting her hand to her hair. It had looked good when she checked it in the mirror. Maybe the braid didn't look as good as she thought it did. In which case, she wanted to go and jump off a cliff.

Before her hand could touch her hair though, Lucien caught it, grinning and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, all the while maintaining eye contact. Y/n blushed.

"When I said dishevelled, I meant you look like you've run a mile. That looks exquisite." He said, straightening and flicking her forehead. "You look exquisite."

"Shut up." She mumbled, shoving his shoulder and stepping out, turning to lock the door. When she had finished, she turned to find him leaning against a pillar of the front porch. He smiled and inclined his head towards the road.

They walked towards the cafe, talking about his past days in the human lands and her job at the jewellery store. How she didn't really care for it and was thinking of taking up something else.

They soon reached the cafe which stood right on the banks of the Sidra and had outdoor seating as well in the backyard, right next to the river. As they settled down in their usual seat in a corner right next to the river, her eyes sharpened on the paper stuck on a nearby wall.

"Hey Lucien? Do you see that?" Y/n questioned, making Lucien glance back at it.

"Yeah. Looks like they're hiring." Lucien's eye lit up as he turned back to her. "You should try." She nodded enthusiastically.

Soon, they finished their food and Lucien was waiting to pay, having insisted on paying while Y/n talked to the hotel's owner. She was quite happy Y/n said she wanted to work there. They finally settled on her starting in two days.

After that, as they were walking home, the delicious smell of freshly baked cakes reached them. Y/n grinned at Lucien who took her arm and walked towards the stand where an old lady was selling small round cakes that were the size of Y/n's palm. They made idle conversation with her while she handed them their treats.

"You two make a good couple. Are you mates?" She asked as soon Y/n took a bite. Which was very unfortunate as she immediately choked on it. Lucien patted her back, grinning as he turned to the lady.

"No, we aren't mates. We're just friends."

"What a shame. But maybe the bond hasn't made itself known yet?"

Lucien shook his head with a sad smile. "That would've been wonderful, really." Y/n's had whipped to him, her eyes wide. Did he just say what she thought he did? Could it be that he... no. That was stupid. He had a mate that he would die for, regardless of whether she liked him back. He would never...

"But I already have a mate." He continued.

"Oh I'm so sorry then for assuming things."

"Don't be. It's not like it matters anyway. She doesn't want the bond."

"Oh mother, that's truly unfortunate. Maybe you could be with someone else? I loved someone in my youth, but he never paid me any attention. Then one day my friend advised me to forget the male. Now I'm married to my friend and I think I couldn't be any more happy."

Lucien looked thoughtful. "That's a good advice, I must say. And I'll definitely think about it." He winked at Y/n, making her blush furiously.

They continued on after that, though there was silence now compared to their earlier mindless chatter. And it was filled with tension. Y/n wrapped her arms around herself, staring into the waters of the Sidra nearby.

As they walked, her mind wandered to what Lucien had said to the woman. Could he really mean what he had said? He wasn't one to joke about such serious matters... but then again, maybe he was jesting.

Soon, they had reached her house, and she stepped up to open the door.

"You want to come in? We can have some tea..."

Lucien smiled. "I would love to if it's not a problem."

As she set about making the tea, he sat watching her every move. Which made her work extremely carefully, wondering if he was judging her. Which was absurd. Because, not only would Lucien never judge her, but also because she never would have cared for something so trivial as someone judging her. So why did she care now?

Because you lov–

She shut the thought down before it even finished.

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

It had been over a month since he had seen his Y/n, and he was already craving her presence. Initially, he been able to go longer periods without meeting his friend. But as time went on, he became more and more enraptured with her and shorter and shorter became the time period between his visits.

The way she laughed on anything he said. The way her eyes would light up when she looked at him. The way he could make her blush by just looking at her. How she would get excited when taking about the newest book she was reading or when she learned something that made her happy.

He just couldn't get enough of her sometimes. All he wanted to do was stay and bask in her presence.

Of course, it wasn't possible, what with his work of going back and forth between human lands and the Night Court, as well as Day Court, where he had been spending some time getting to know his father.

It was a shock when he found out that Beron wasn't his real father, but he was adjusting. She had a big part in his acceptance. And he was grateful for it.

Now, he was going to leave his emissary duties for the Night Court, going to live in his father's court permanently. Which was why Feyre had decided to have the whole of the inner circle and him go out to eat for dinner. Lucien had suggested the cafe by the Sidra for the ordeal.

The place where Y/n currently worked.

He was smiling at his thoughts of her when he knocked on the door of the River House. Nuala opened it, greeting him with a smile before letting him enter. There was already sounds of chatter coming from the living room as he walked towards it. Everyone was here then. Great.

The quicker this was over, the faster he could spend time with Y/n.

He would leave soon, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come back to Velaris. He had important people here.

He had informed Rhys about his departure a few months ago, and had agreed to stay till they found someone who would be willing to take up the duties of Lucien. They were still searching for someone, so Lucien was still the emissary.

•○●⛦●○•

Lucien tapped his leg on the floor impatiently, his eyes constantly flitting between the tables and booths in search of his friend.

It had only been a few moments since he had arrived with the inner circle, but he simply couldn't wait to catch a glimpse of her.

While he was searching for Y/n, he failed to notice the High lord and lady's, as well as the entire inner circle's eyes on him.

He craned his head, and he finally heard that beautiful voice he'd been dying to hear from behind him.

"Good evening. May I take your order?"

He turned his head so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, but Lucien didn't care as his eyes met those of Y/n's.

Her mouth lifted at the edges, a knowing look in her eyes as she turned away to converse with Rhysand.

His brain didn't process the words being exchanged between the two, he was so busy admiring her.

And wondering when the damn dinner will be over so he could finally talk to her and catch up.

When she left the table after taking their orders, she distcreetly brushed her hand against his bicep, pulling a smile on his face.

Just an hour or so. He reminded himself as he focused on the table in front of him, ignoring the looks of the inner circle, including Elain.

Which wasn't all that hard.

•○●⛦●○•

The time seemed to pass slower, just to torture Lucien that night.

Right when Lucien was about to loose his patience, everyone had finished dessert, and were on the verge of leaving.

Lucien stood, nodding at Cassian and Azriel in goodbye, hugging Feyre and shaking Rhys's hand. Making some excuse- unconvincing, he was sure- about having to go meet up with Vassa and Jurian, he walked away, eyeing the place Y/n had disappeared into.

He knew that she was about to leave, had probably already left, and he couldn't wait to tell her all the juicy stories he'd acquired over his recent travels, as well as the budding tensions between Vassa and Jurian.

The moment he stepped out onto the road, he heard her voice.

"So desperate to meet me fox boy?"

Lucien smirked, turning to find the owner of the voice leaning against a wall. "You wish."

Her eyebrows lifted as she pushed herself off the wall. "Sure. Didn't seem like it was just my fantasy when you were searching around like an eager puppy."

He grinned, though a flush climbed up his neck at being caught red handed. "Just wanted to see you so I could tell you about Vassa and Jurian."

Y/n grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as she buried her face in his neck. He returned the hug in kind, warming up his body a little through his magic so he could ward off the chill in the air surrounding them.

They stayed in the hug for longer than seemed appropriate, but no one was watching anyways. And neither of them cared if anyone was.

Y/n was the first to pull away, smiling shyly up at Lucien.

"You want to get some cake before we go home?" Y/n questioned, beginning towards the general direction of her home.

"I feel like we should make it ourselves." Lucien wiggled his eyebrows, throwing his arm around her shoulders as they began the trek to her home.

She shook her head slightly, becoming redder by the moment as she grinned softly at her feet.

•○🌑○•

It was solstice tonight.

It had been one not-long-enough year since he'd met Y/n.

Lucien's chest felt lighter than it had been in ages.

They had already found a new emissary who they trusted, and so today was Lucien's last day as a member of the Inner Circle.

He was here today to deliver some reports to Rhys.

The sound of utensils and laughter greeted him as soon as he entered the River house, the inner circle being as loud as ever. But as soon as he stepped foot in the dining room, everything went silent, all eyes turning to him.

He smiled at Feyre, nodding to Rhys and pointing to the papers in his hands. He placed the stack on a table nearby, before nodding again to the rulers of Night and turning away.

"Wait! Where are you going? Come have dinner with us." Lucien looked at Feyre, shaking his head.

He didn't want to stay. Not when all that was going through his head was how he would go up to Y/n's door and knock, and how she would open the door suspiciously, those eyes narrowed. But then she would realise that it was him, and she would fling the door open with squeal, tackling him into a hug, laughing. How when she pulled back, she'd realise she was in her pajamas and would self consciously brush herself down, touching her hair. How–

"Lucien?" Lucien winced, coming back to the present.

"I can't stay. I have to go meet a friend."

"Oh. Did you plan a meeting beforehand?"

"Oh no. She doesn't know I'm here. I'm going to go surprise her."

"She?" A gentle and soft voice intoned. Lucien stiffened. The voice he had wanted to hear acknowledge him ever since the bond snapped for him.

He turned to look at Elain, his brows rising as he took her in. She was standing from her seat next to the shadowsinger, her knuckles white from clenching her fork so tightly. Her brows were furrowed in anger, and she looked murderous.

"Yes..." He didn't really know how to answer the question, so he simply watched her.

Rage entered her eyes. "Is this the female you went with that night when we were out?"

Lucien blinked, wondering what was making Elain so angry. "Yes. Exactly that one."

Elain huffed out a bitter laugh. "So is she trying to steal my mate now? She did look like someone who steals males."

For a moment, no one moved. There was so much silence it was deafening.

Almost everyone was staring between Elain and Lucien, their eyes wide. Except from Amren, of course. Nothing could faze the little devil. And Nyx, who waved around a piece of carrot like a sword.

Lucien smiled slowly. "Glad to know your thoughts on my life, mate. I will let her know of your amazing thoughts about her."

Lucien turned away, walking towards the foyer, but just before he turned out of sight, he glanced back, his eyes meeting Elain's.

"She and I were only ever friends, but now that you've said it, I realise that we never were meant to be friends." Lucien smiled slightly, bowing his head. "Thank you."

And with that, he left, ready to meet with his friend.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Her solstice had been normal. Nothing great to do. Her father had gone out drinking with his friends, her friends having been busy with their own families. Even the old hag was busy tending to and celebrating with her brother.

She was sure Lucien would also be busy with something, since he hadn't written to her to let her know of his arrival if he was coming.

That left Y/n alone.

But then suddenly, a knock had sounded on the door, and Y/n's heart had fluttered before even knowing who stood on the other side of the door.

After Lucien told her what was going on with Vassa and Jurian, he began telling her of the events that went down in the High lord's home as she got ready to take a stroll around Velaris with Lucien.

Her blood boiled when she heard of the things Elain said to Lucien, but a smile of reassurance from him was all it took for her to calm down.

They were in the main square of Velaris right now, watching the people dance around the huge fire in the centre.

It had become a tradition in the recent years for the people of the city to come together and dance the night away, laughing and drinking and mingling. It was a wholesome event, where younger people would gather around the old towards the end of the night and simply listen to their tales.

This was the first time Y/n was attending with someone else, as usually she would come here alone and sit next to the elderly, watching as younger couple her age danced around and bonded.

The glow from the fire danced in Lucien's eyes, making it look like there was fire inside those mismatched eyes. There was a relaxed grin on his face, one like she'd never seen before. He seemed so careless now, so free, it made Y/n smile too.

"You're staring." He pointed out, his voice barely audible over the cheers and the faeries singing along.

Y/n blushed, but in a sudden burst of boldness, she spoke, looking away. "It would be a crime not to."

From the periphery of her eyes, she found him gaping at her and had to suppress a triumphant smile.

"You know, I feel like the Mother took extra time making you."

He let out a surprised laugh, the sound lighting fires across Y/n's body.

"All that extra time to make me ruined by a fucking scar."

His tone was light, though Y/n could sense a hint of insecurity and sadness under the joy.

She turned to him, watching as the smile slowly vanished from his face at the look in her eyes.

"You are beautiful, Lucien, scars and all. And if I had the chance, I would show you how beautiful they are to me." She let her hand reach up toward his face, ignoring the heat entering his eyes or the way his pupils dilated as she traced the scar that ended at his jaw.

"Beautiful. So fucking beautiful."

HIs eyes fell shut as the music came to an end, and the people dancing around the fire dispersed for a moment.

"Y/n..." He whispered, his hand reaching up to hold hers against his face.

The music started up again, a soft and slower sound than before, more sensual.

This one was for people who were a couple or in a relationship, just a slow waltz to cool down before everyone again joined in a faster, more traditional dance.

"Dance with me."

The words were a shock to her system, and she nodded without even thinking.

It wasn't until the two of them had begun dancing, her arms wrapped around his broad and strong shoulders, their faces barely inches away, that she remembered that this was a waltz for couples, and she and Lucien were definitely not a couple.

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. She opened her mouth to tell him, trying to ignore the warmth against her skin from the fire behind her, his body pressed so close to hers in the front.

"Lucien, this dance is for-"

"I know." He mumbled, his eyes smoldering. "I know." He repeated, making sure she understood.

Suddenly, his arms around her waist became more apparent, the way they rested over her lower back. The way the stray hairs that had escaped his low bun tickled her neck, the way his breath washed over her skin when he exhaled.

Y/n's mind was about to either stop working, or remind her of Lucien's touch every two minutes, and honestly, she didn't know which one she prefered.

He never broke eye contact once during the whole dance.

Soon, but not soon enough, the slow music came to an end. And the people that sat along the outer edge cheered, clapping and demanding the couples kiss. And as all the couples shared that intimate moment, Y/n's heart rate picked up, panic clawing up her throat, feeling so many eyes on her and him, wondering what Lucien would do.

She didn't have to wonder long, though.

Lucien began leaning in, making Y/n's eyes flutter closed. She swallowed, licking her lips.

Then she felt his hot breath closer to her face, his lashes brushing gently against her skin as she felt those plump, beautiful lips on the corner of hers.

She felt him smile against her skin. All the while, it was hard to breathe.

But then he pulled away, a flush on his cheeks. If it was because of the heat of the enormous fire behind her, or because he was genuinely flustered, she couldn't tell.

As the faster music started, Lucien grinned wickedly at her.

"Let's dance, my lady."

•○🌑○•

Y/n's feet were sore, but it was all so worth it.

At some point during the night, she had discarded her shoes next to a kind old male who she had known since she was a child.

All the dances after Y/n and Lucien's initial waltz had been fast paced, where everyone changed partners every few moments. It was one of the best things that had happened that night, getting to know new people and dancing and singing along to the top of their lungs.

It was all so beautiful.

She had always thought so, watching from the sidelines. But now, being one of the people she would have watched, it was a whole different experience.

The dancing was supposed to go on for atleast one more hour before the elders gathered and began telling stories. That would go on for the rest of the night.

And so, Y/n decided to get some rest, maybe somewhere on he benches near the Sidra where it would be quiet before returning to listen to the elder's tales.

Listening to loud music for hours was one way to invite a headache.

Y/n began making her way up to Lucien, who stood on the opposite side of the huge fire, but then she paused, simply admiring him.

He had discarded his embroidered overcoat next to where Y/n had placed her shoes, now only in a simple, thin white shirt that clung to his sweaty frame, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He laughed as he held the hands of a little girl, giving her instructions on how to move. The little girl's tongue poked out of her lips as she concentrated, and Lucien was just as concentrated as her.

Once the current music came to an end, the girl grinned up at Lucien, and he ruffled her hair in return before she ran away, maybe to her friends.

Y/n finally walked up to Lucien, smiling tiredly at him.

"Hello, you."

He smiled back. "Good evening, my lady."

Y/n rolled her eyes at the title. "Shut up."

"Can I not even greet you now?"

"Yeah yeah whatever. I'm going to go sit at a bench, rest a little then return. You coming?"

He nodded, walking over to where his coat lay on the ground. He picked it up along with her shoes then returned.

When she tried to take her shoes from him, he waved her away.

The two of them walked in silence, heading towards the quiet river. Once there, they walked onto the bank and settled down where the place was relatively drier than all other places. Y/n dipped her feet in the cold water, releasing a relieved sigh at the soothing sensation.

Lucien pulled out two packets from the pocket of his coat, tearing open the wrapper and handing one to Y/n. She looked at him, confused.

He simply opened his pack, and then bit into the cake.

"Why do you have these with you?" She questioned, though she began nibbling on the little treat.

He shrugged. "Jurian found these at a bakery in mortal lands a few days ago. I thought you might like it."

She smiled, staring into the water as she slowly chewed.

"The inner circle were in the crowd tonight."

Y/n whipped her head to look at Lucien, but he didn't even seem bothered or interested in talking about the inner circle. He said it so casually, like he was telling her it was night and not day.

After a moment, Y/n spoke. "Was Elain there?"

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake. He took his time chewing before he gave her a response.

"I saw them after the fourth or fifth song. Apparently, they'd been watching since the first song."

Y/n gaped at him.

He glanced at her. "What?"

"Why are you so nonchalant about this?! Your mate saw you dancing with me on a song meant for people involved romantically!"

He blinked, then raised a brow. "And?"

"That might ruin any chances you had with her!"

He shrugged again. "There was never any chance anyway."

"Lucien! You-"

"Look Y/n. It's been long since the bond made itself known. It's been long enough that if she wanted to accept the bond, she would have. And long enough that if she didn't want the bond, she would have rejected it."

"Yes I know but you love her-"

"Let me speak, love. Let me get this off my chest. I never loved her. She didn't give me the chance to. The pull I felt towards her was simply the bond clouding my judgement. The desperation with which I seeked to gain her attention was me simply yearning for happiness. If I had not been so lonely and upset all the time, maybe I wouldn't even have acknowledged the bond if she ignored it too.

"And maybe I am a bastard for that, but I don't know what had gotten over me for the past year or so. I had lost almost all of myself, until you came along.

"You-" Lucien looked at Y/n, his eyes bright "-you made me realise that I did not need another person to make me happy, and that I didn't have to stop being myself for someone to love me. And i will be eternally grateful to you for it."

Y/n shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. "Lucien, you deserve to find love. You deserve to have a happy life."

"And I know that now. All because of you."

"But I did nothing." She sniffed, her cake forgotten in her hand.

"You didn't have to. Just simply being my friend and showing me kindness made a significant difference in how I saw myself."

"But what about Elain? What about the bond?"

He smiled. "She can be with anyone she wants now. She wanted to have control over some aspects of her life after having been forced to turn, and honestly, I don't blame her. I would have wanted to do the same if my life had been anything like her."

"And what about you?"

Y/n felt like she knew the answer, but she still wanted to know.

"I do not need a bond to be with someone I love, you know."

"And who is it that you love?"

His smile turned knowing. "You know the answer, don't you?"

"Tell me still. After all, you do love hearing yourself speak."

This was a serious moment, but Y/n felt like if she didn't try to lighten the air by joking, this would become real. And she didn't know if she could handle that.

"I love you, Y/n."

She closed her eyes, telling herself this was not real, that she would wake up soon, and realise this had been a dream. Just like all the times before she had had the dream of being with Lucien and then waking up, all alone in her bed and staring at the ceiling.

But when silence settled around her, him staring at her expectantly, she realised this was no dream.

That someone like Lucien really was in love with someone like her.

She closed her eyes, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eyes. "You don't mean that."

She felt his thumb brushing away the tear a moment before she felt his lips on her cheek. "I do. I am in love with you, my lady. I would do anything to show you how much I love you. To prove to you that I really do."

Her eyes fluttered open, staring into his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers. "Why?"

He chuckled. "What do you mean why? There is not need of a reason for me to love you. I simply love you because you exist."

After a moment, she whispered what she had been dying to scream. "I love you, Lucien. I love you so much."

His smile widened, and he began closing the distance between them. "Then let me be yours."

Just before their lips met, she mumbled. "Be mine."

And her body ignited.

•○●⛦●○•

Her joints were creaking, but the old hag watched, and waited.

She had this primal need to have the little girl she'd watched grow up in front of her eyes find happiness, and she would threaten even the mother if the need arose to make Y/n happy.

But she didn't have to do that, because as she watched, the fire head male leaned in and pressed a kiss to Y/n's lips, and the old hag smiled, giddy with happiness and excitement.

And then she turned away, meaning to hobble back to the solstice celebration in the main square and leave the two younglings to enjoy the night together.

But then she paused, staring at the young female that stared at Y/n and the fire boy she'd fallen in love with.

Slowly, the old hag's brain remembered that this female with soft features and silky hair was the high lady's sister. And in turn, Lucien's mate.

Damn the mother. The old hag cursed, shaking her head.

"Leave them be." The hag ordered the girl in front of her, who turned to her with wide eyes. "They both deserve happiness. Don't you dare think about getting in the way."

The girl in the lilac dress nodded, her eyes becoming watery, but the hag had already begun walking away.

And after a final glance at the giggling couple on the riverbank, the girl turned away, jealousy and relief warring in her chest.

•○●⛦●○•

When Lucien pulled away, his hand still resting on her cheek, she couldn't stop a giggle from escaping. His lips quirked, a little swollen.

"Something funny?"

She shook her head, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the water. "Should we do a toast, my lord?"

He laughed at that, shifting closer to her as he put an arm around her shoulders. "And what will we toast with? We don't have wine or anything."

"We have these cakes." She pointed out.

He lifted his cake into the air. "Alright then. To love!"

Y/n wrinkled her nose. "And cakes!" She said as she raised her hand, and Lucien laughed.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Carefree and happy.

And Y/n simply watched, admiring.

Loving.

•○🌑○•

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

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fineartphotographysandiego · 2 months ago

Text

Timeless Charm with Vintage Egg Beaters

Discover the classic appeal of vintage egg beaters, blending functionality and nostalgia for your kitchen collection or decor. Add Vintage Egg Beaters into your kitchen collection.

#vintage egg beaters #red handle kitchen tools

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shhh-secret-time · 1 year ago

Note

rahhhh i’m such a fan of your writing omg and I never request stuff so i’m very nervous to send this but can I Pretty Please ask for something w kyle who’s usually more of a sub being asked to like Go Crazy Dom and at first he’s nervous but then like completely gets into it and wrecks reader’s shit please…. thank u for yr service🙏🏼

Oh lovelies you never need to be nervous when sending requests, I know it can be intimidating but believe me I say this truly makes my day!

That being said, I hope you don't mind that I've combo the request with someone else's! I'm getting a lot of Kyle and I wanna make sure everyone gets a little of what they want! And there is filth ahead so get your bibles ready. Sinners the lot of you.

Me too

Warning: NSFW, Slight choking, Dom!Kyle, Sub!Reader, Breeding Kink, Oral, Strong Language

Pairing: Kyle x Fem!Reader

Notes: Shout out to the roommate who talked me through making a Danish so I didn't have to google it lmao.

The smell of brown sugar and cinnamon filled the air swirling around in your small kitchen. The morning light peeks through the curtains of the circular window in front of the sink, you smile at the view of lilac and orange seemed to blend. You've read things online where people compared the morning sky to painting where the paint seemed to just melt together, and it seemed like one of those days. If you were better with a camera, you'd take a picture just to share it. That and the fact that you had a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a very sleepy curly red-haired man nuzzling into your shoulder.

Your husband Kyle was never a morning person, for all his perfections and his strict schedule keeping, when the morning sun would greet him, he'd return the greeting with a groan and a feeble attempt to hide. You were trying to revive the poor man by making a pot of coffee, the warm brown liquid was the only thing that brought him back to the land of the living. The man ran off of coffee, you were sure the Tweeks owed half their business to him. With the coffee pot humming its little tune and the smell of ingredients laid out across the counter this morning just seemed perfect. Now if only your husband didn't have to leave and go to work if he could just stay with you and keep you warm.

The crisp morning air seeped into the house and sure you could change out of the basketball shorts you stole from him, and the large T-shirt you stole from him, oh the fluffy socks you stole from him but then you wouldn't smell like him. Because he would be leaving after he got through with his morning routine, and you'd be alone in this cold little house.

"What's with the face baby?" His voice broke you out of your little pout, the sleepy gravel laced in each word sent a shiver down your spine.

"What face? I'm making apple and brown sugar Danishes..." You say with a little smile on your face knowing full well he was going to keep bugging you about this.

"Hm... that’s why you had your lip poked out. And your brows were doing that thing." How did he know? He still had his face buried in you, now pushed into the crook of your neck.

You only hum in response as you focus on the apple in your hands, the knife gliding across the skin of the ruby red fruit. He knew better than to mess with you while you were handling dangerous kitchen tools, so he waited until you finished. Once you finished slicing the apples you gently placed them into the lemon water mixture, it would keep the apples fresh while you worked on the rest of the pastry. Next your hands find the mixing tool and begin to pull together nutmeg, brown sugar, butter, salt, and finally the cinnamon. Because you didn't have a lot of time in the mornings, knowing your husband had little time, you prepared the flour before he even stirred.

"You can't ignore me forever; I'm just going to keep bugging you until you tell me why you made such an adorable face." Kyle reminds you that he's still latched onto you by placing a lazy kiss on your neck, his lips trailing down towards your shoulder touching any skin that's exposed by the baggy shirt.

Every little kiss pulled you further and further away from your mixing, you couldn't help but melt under his affection. That didn't stop you from trying. You try squirming away from his lips, pushing your cheek against his face to nudge it out of the way.

"Baby, I'm trying to make you breakfast. Do you want to go to work hungry?"

"Hmm no, but if it means getting you to talk then I can suffer a little." He responds by tugging you back against him pulling you away from the bowl, the only shield against his wondering lips.

Kyle turns you around and lifts you up so you're facing him, using the counter so that you can look him in the eye. He's lucky you already put the ingredients you needed in the bowl, it didn't matter how pretty he looked with his messy bedhead and his soft green eyes, if he ruined your work, he'd get more than a pout. You expect him to move his hands from under your thighs, but he doesn't, instead he slots himself in between your legs and keeps the warmth of his palm on your exposed skin.

"No where to run now, come on love talk to me."

You look away for a moment, the heat from his hands was almost as warm as the blush on your face. "I- was just thinking about how lonely it is sometimes when you leave for work. I miss you..." You finally cave, how can you not under his gaze especially when it softens as you speak.

Kyle lets out a soft 'oh' that seems to drag out along with a sigh. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, one of his hands leaves your thigh and cups the side of your face his lips aren't on. "I'm sorry, you know getting out of bed is one of the hardest things I do every morning. I want nothing more than to stay wrapped up in the blankets with you."

This is why you didn't want to say anything, it was a selfish feeling. He was the one going out to provide for you both, he was the one who had to leave the house while he insisted that you stayed home to relax. When you first married Kyle, it was one of the first things he expressed he wanted, the need to take care of you and pamper you. It was a dream at first, having all that time to yourself and your hobbies and the only thing you needed to focus on was keeping the house clean.

Kyle pulls your face towards him, his index finger hooking under your chin to guide you back to him. His face drops to a frown when he sees the look on your face, his eyes studying you carefully.

"Hey, why don't we go out tonight? We can get some dinner and maybe catch a movie?" He's trying and it's so sweet, the way he doesn't seem to even mind your selfishness.

"That sounds nice. I'm sorry Kyle." You smile at him giving him a little kiss on the nose.

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything wrong."

"It's just-...you're the one that has to work and I'm being, I dunno clingy?"

"Baby you're not clingy. Honestly, I love that you want me here. I want to be here." If he wasn't already smiling at the way you kissed his nose, he definitely has a love filled grin now.

"I know and it makes me feel bad for telling you. Like, it's probably already hard enough for you to go to work."

Kyle goes quiet for a only a moment before shaking his head, the red curls bouncing from side to side as he does. He sighs softly and looks at you with heavy lidded eyes. The love in his smile matches the soft greens of his eyes.

"You're so sweet. Such a wonderful wife, you know that? I can't believe I'm this lucky to have married someone so considerate." Between his barrage of compliments and the way he peppers your face with so many soft kisses you can't argue back. "You're not making my life harder by wanting me to stay, I'm not burdened by you, I promise. Have I ever been the kind of guy to keep that kind of thing quiet?"

No. If Kyle Broflovski felt strongly about something you would hear it. It was honestly one of your favorite things about him, you never had to guess how he felt or if he wasn't upset and was too afraid to tell you. There were moments where he needed time to sort out his feelings or he'd explode, and he swore he'd never do that to you. Not you, not the person he bound his life to.

"There's more to this isn't there? Come on love, what is it?" Kyle Broflovski was also very good at reading you, turns out.

You pressed your lips together as your hands worked up towards his hair, carding your fingers through his fiery red curls. He hummed in delight at the way your fingers felt against his scalp, if you didn't want to risk ruining the moment, you'd compare him to a cat.

One should feel honored that Kyle would even allow them to see his hair when he was a kid, now here you were touching it and even massaging his scalp. You swore if you had enough time, you'd have him purring in your hands.

"I was just thinking about a way to not make the house so lonely."

"You want me to see if I can't start working from home? It'll be a little difficult, but I can-"

"No, no. I mean that would be awesome but no. I mean like...what if we had a little us running around? You know?" You whisper letting your voice drop as if someone could be listening in on your conversation.

Kyle's eyes widen and you watch his face turn a bright red, the freckles on his face pop against his skin. You've never seen him react like that, even before you were married in those early dating stages. Sure, there were times where he got nervous, times where he felt his heart speed up when he looked at you, times where he was puddy in your hands and you could pull a side of him that he'd never show anyone else.

In the bedroom it was you who took the lead. Maybe it was because Kyle was so busy being "dominate" in other parts of your relationship that when it was time for love making, he just wanted to let someone else have control. Being able to shut his mind off and just focus on the wonderful feeling you gave him was what heaven felt like, he was sure. And he was just lucky you liked the role, that you took to it so easily. There was no shame in his eyes, he just wanted to keep what you both did between you two. The world didn't need to know what went on behind closed doors. But the way he looked at you told a different story.

"You...want a baby? My baby?" His voice matches your level, but his voice seems to dip lower than his usual sleepy voice.

"Who else? I know we haven't really talked about it, but I think we're in a good spot and we'd make really good parents."

When Kyle doesn't respond you squirm a little on the counter, shifting in his hold that seemed to tighten around your thigh. You watched as he took a deep breath, and his eyes fluttered shut. Then he grabbed his phone and began tapping away against the screen. You went to move so you could give him the privacy he needed as your eyes caught the little text bubbles being sent. You tried your hardest not to read what he was texting but his hand on your thigh squeezed around the soft flesh, a silent warning to keep still. The way his jaw shifts and the veins in his arms poke out makes you tilt your head in confusion.

"I called off." His voice breaking the silence makes you jolt, that and the way he tosses his phone to the side.

"What?! Why!? I don't want to be the reason you're staying home." You try to protest further but you're cut off by the way his lips slam into yours.

"I've got plenty of sick days I never use. You're sitting here in my clothes talking about wanting my baby. And god damn it I didn't even want to go in today anyway." He growls in between the kisses, emphasizing each word.

"I always wear your clothes though! I don't see-... Kyle did asking for a baby get you worked up?" You ask pulling him back from your lips by his hair, he usually likes when you tug on the roots.

He lets out a small moan, but it's cut off by another growl, he grabs your hands holding your smaller wrists in his one hand. Pinning them above your head against the cabinets behind you makes you gasp, and your eyes widen. This was a new side to him that had your core pulsing with desire.

He didn't need to answer, you got it from that alone, but he did. "You have no idea how long I've been thinking about wanting to fill you up. How bad I wanna cum in you until there's no question that you're pregnant."

You shutter and whimper at the way he speaks to you, his dirty talk working its magic. As the years went on, he worked on trying to keep it out of his vocabulary, but in moments like this where he gets worked up it would slip out.

But it never came out like this, you never realized how much you liked Kyle like this. You never saw the looks he would give you when you were so busy taking care of Ike. The way his eyes would linger with a dark hunger behind them as you took care of his baby brother like it was second nature. Thoughts of your own kids grabbing at your hip and hugging your leg, a baby in your arms and another one in his. How jealous he was that Stan told him one night that he was trying with his partner for kids. How Kenny already had one with another one the way. Kyle wanted his kids to grow up with theirs, maybe they'd be best friends like they were.

More importantly he wanted to see you pregnant, the need to take care of you was ingrained so deeply that he wanted this. Needed this. His cock was aching already over the fact that you brought it up and he didn't have to. You came to him wanting a baby and fuck he was going to give you one. Especially if you kept whimpering and pressing your body against his like that.

"Who's getting worked up now? Do you like that idea? C'mon talk to me Mama." Oh, the way he called you that was dangerous, his hot breath ghosting over your exposed collarbone.

"I-I-" You can't get it out, the way your head is spinning and the way his lips are working, making his mark on your skin. You yelp when his teeth sink in and his grip on your wrists tightens. "I do! I-I want you!"

He seemed to like that, liked the way you beg for him so easily. You feel him smirk into your skin and his free hand push up your shirt. His fingertips glide across your skin finding your breasts, there he gives your nipple a sharp pinch, rolling the nub between his index finger and this thumb. "You sound so pretty like this; I should have done this forever ago.... I'm gonna let your hands go so I can get this shirt off you. You keep them there." Kyle wasn't asking, not the way he clicked his tongue and rolled your nipple.

You cry out and nod, barely able to verbally respond, the pain was intoxicated something you didn't even know you liked. If this was how he was acting from just talking about putting a baby in you, you couldn't wait until he was actually fucking you. For now, you'd play his game, keep your hands above your head so he can slip the faded T-shirt off you.

"I never get tired of this." Next comes your shorts, he unties the strings keeping the baggy basketball shorts up and around your waist. His hands working on pulling them down until they pool beneath his feet, kicking them to the side. "I can't believe you thought for a second I would be upset with you for wanting me to stay home. Fuck, I'm glad you said something. Guess I don't have to worry about going to work hungry hm?" He returns to your neck, but he doesn't stay for long, he kisses a heated trail down to your breasts.

There his lips latch onto your hardening buds. His tongue swirls around the pink flesh hungrily sucking until they're red and sore. Each little cry and moan you let out only encourages him to give the other side the same attention. All the while his hands work on opening your legs to him.

His attention is pulled away when he feels your soaked cunt. Expecting to find your panties, he growls and looks down at you. You don't know how he went from looking you in the eye, to almost hovering over you with such a dangerous look. How he made you feel so small like you were prey.

"Was this a part of your plan? Make those adorable pouting faces and get me to fuck you on the kitchen counter? Wear nothing under my clothes so I can dive right into that delicious looking pussy?" You moan and throw your head back, not just from how filthy he spoke but from how he bit the inside of your thigh.

Teeth marks marking up and down your plump perfect thighs, they were perfect to him. Perfect in the way they felt under his teeth, perfect in the way they filled his hand, perfect in the way you tasted. All of you was perfect.

"Oh fuck~" You're nearly cut off by another gasp as his nips turn to kisses against your slit.

"Keep moaning like that, it goes so well with my breakfast." The way his tongue slipped through the lips of your cunt against your bud made your gasp turn to moans.

Kyle devoured you like you were his last meal, his tongue swirls around your nub like he had your breasts. You couldn't help as your hips rolled against his tongue chasing pleasure with greed, but he stops you with a firm hold on your thighs. His teeth graze your bud as a warning, a silent demand for you to sit still, but if the way he spoke and pinned you down was anything to go off of; you needed to keep pushing. So, you pushed against his hold again, squirming against his mouth.

When Kyle pulls back and clicks his tongue, it isn't until you see the look in his eyes that you know you're in trouble. "I kept my hands up like you told me to...w-what is it?"

"You know what. I'm trying to eat my meal in peace and you're making it very hard. Quit being a brat."

"But I was just-"

Kyle cuts you off again, but not with his lips or his own words, but from his hands wrapped around your throat. The tips of his fingers applied a healthy amount of pressure to cut off just enough air to make your head spin. His eyes narrow down at you as he forces your head up.

"You were just...what? Arguing with me? No, I think you were going to say, I'm sorry I won't move my hips again. I'll keep still so you can eat."

He waits. Waits for you to nod before letting your throat go, then he waits another second looking at you expectedly. As you gasp for air your tongue traces your bottom lip. "I... I’m sorry and I'll keep still so you can eat."

"Good girl."

Oh. Oh. Maybe you were more of a switch than you thought. Maybe it was just the way he said that with that delicious purr. At this moment you didn't really care to put a label on it, you were just burning from the praise. Not like you had a lot of time to think about it anyway, not when he knelt back down and started eating you out. His lips latched onto the sensitive nub pulling a moan from you as he sucked, his tongue flicks over it again and again. He's attentive to every sound you make from the way your muscles flex and bounce under his touch. All but humming when your yell for God or his name.

Throwing your head back, you swore you were seeing stars when he shook his head back and forth. The friction had you clenching around nothing and your nails digging into the wooden cabinets behind you.

"Kyle baby, I'm gonna cum. Please let me cum. I-I've been good I did what you told me!"

When he doesn't say anything, you have to fight the urge to grab him by the head and force him to look up at you. Slowly he looks up at you and the little flicker of fire behind them tells you all you need. It takes everything in your power not to close your eyes as you cum around his tongue, even more so when his tongue begins to greedily lap it up. You mewl and squirm trying to pull away from him, but he won't let you, won't let you move from his hold. Nothing you could have baked for him would taste as perfect as you do.

"So sweet~. Hmm always taking care of me." Kyle rubs his lips against your thighs again, wiping the slick off his jaw.

As he stands back up, he can't help but admire his work. The way your skin is marked with his teeth marks, the purple bruises on your thighs shaped like his hand, and now the way your face is flushed a dark red as you try to catch your breath. You can't quite read what's going on in his head, but he's got that look like he's thinking about something. The way his brows knit together and his eyes flicker from you to around the room.

Then he hums, picks you up and carries you over to the kitchen table. You shiver when the cool wood hits your back but it's a distant complaint as he hovers over you. Somewhere between the counter and the table he's slipped off his plaid bottoms and his boxers. Discarded somewhere with your clothes, you click back into reality as he pulls his shirt over his head. Most of his freckles are covering his shoulders, dusting across the pale skin and down his back. He raises a brow at you when he catches you admiring just how handsome he really is. It's only morning and he's already got you so dazed and worked up.

"Got something to say Mama?"

Fuck you were really beginning to like that, "just thinking about how incredibly lucky I am. We're gonna make some really pretty babies."

He smirks at you, the kind that would have made you fall to your knees if you weren't laying on the table. "Yeah? I was just thinking the same thing. How fucking beautiful you are. How pretty you're gonna look when I finally paint your insides."

You cover your mouth to stop the moan from slipping out of your mouth, but once again he stops you and pins your hands by your side. "No. Let me hear you. I need to hear you begging for my cock. Beg me to fill you up."

It takes a few teasing glides of his cock over you folds and a few more growls before you finally cave. The way the words roll of your tongue is like sin. "Please Kyle, I want you to fuck a baby into me. I want it so bad; it has to be you. Only you!"

"Fuck!" His own resolve crumbles just as the tip of his cock slips back down to your begging hole.

This isn't the first time you've felt him without a condom but this time it felt so different. Knowing he wasn't going to pull out this time was exciting, the fact that he could just let go and take you however he wanted. To claim you with his cum. You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't even feel the way he puts your legs up on his shoulders, or his curls brushing against your face. It isn't until he finally sheathes himself into you that you snap out of it. You moan next to his ear when he bottoms out in you, the way your thighs burn feels so good.

"Your cunt's choking me, trying to milk me already baby? Don't worry I'll give you every last drop." Kyle lulls his head to the side as he begins lazily rocking into you.

You're almost folded in half from the way he has you under him, knees pushed back towards your shoulders. Kyle's got your hands still pinned by the side of your head; fingers intertwined with yours. Normally his eyes would flutter shut, he'd give into the sensation of his cock nudging into your walls, but this time he keeps them open. Like he is trying to memorize every time your lips form that cute little 'o' and a moan comes spilling out. The way your moans pitch up when he hits that delicious spot. The way you pant and beg for him to go faster.

That's when he shifts, the loving hold and lazy thrusts turn to fast paced fucking. Love making is always there, you never doubt that, but the way he's got his hands around your waist pulling you back onto his cock feels so raw. He slams into you with a newfound force neither of you knew he could muster. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, stars dancing across your vision. He rewards you with his own moans and grunts, the further his cock head pushes past your walls the faster he brings you to climax. Now that your hands are free from his strong grip, you place them on his forearm’s nails digging into his flesh. He hisses but it only seems to push him further.

"Come on baby. Cum around my cock. Yeah, just like that. Just like that!"

You arch your back and give him all you have. Your walls finally grip his cock as you reach your peak. Between your heart beating in your ears and the way he slams back into you, it's almost too much. Kyle finds a way to keep you on the line without pushing you too far. You feel the way his hips begin to stutter, and his moans become ragged. You know he's close.

"Yeah. Fuck you feel so good, I'm gonna- gotta fill you up. Take it!" He groans and then you feel his hot seed against your walls. Pushing up into your cunt, he plugs your hole with a final slam of his hips.

You and your husband lay there against one another, panting heavily until your breathing slows down to match one another. You can feel his lips pressed against your neck and his eyelashes tickle your skin. When you move your hands to his hair again, he knows you're okay, he presses a few short kisses onto your soft lips. Kyle feels you smile against his lips, and he doesn't even bother stopping the lazy one that comes across his.

"Never seen that side of you. I like it." You purr finally able to talk now that you've slowed down.

"Hm, keep that in mind when we do this again."

"Again?"

"Oh baby, we've got all day. It's Friday. I'm going to treat you to dinner like I promised. After that I'll take you upstairs and we're going to do this again. And again. Aaaaaand again. I'll keep my cock plugged in you like this and we'll go to sleep." His fingers push back into your hair, pushing it out of your sweaty face.

"J-Jesus Kyle." You shutter under his touch, unable to stop the way your walls flutter around him again. You can feel his cock bob in response, and when he slides his hardened member out slowly; you feel every little vein like he wants you to memorize it.

"Gotta make sure you're pregnant. My perfect, beautiful, wonderful wife deserves to be a mama. And what kind of husband would I be if I didn't give her exactly what she wants?" Kyle smirks down at you with newfound energy.

It was going to be a long morning, maybe you could convince him to let you finish making those pastries but you had a feeling that would be a battle. Especially since he's already started thrusting back into you. Maybe a few more rounds wouldn't hurt, you could always have him put the baked goods in the oven. After all he was doing so well already.

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sparrowrye · 2 months ago

Text

The Archivists’s Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 4

Synopsis: some things are just too good to be true

Master List

Chapter 4: broadcast of betrayal

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

"Stop it." I smacked Al's hand away from his arm.

"It itches," he hissed. He went to itch it again but I caught it in a tight grip.

"Suck it up or it's going to itch more."

His ears turned away in response as he stuffed down a growl. I released his hand and went back to the kitchen sink. I had an itch cream but it had been difficult to get it underneath his fur, so there had been a few places I missed. We had fallen asleep under the stars and woke with an array of mosquito bites.

I soaked a towel in water and draped it over the handle of the kettle. After it had warmed enough, I wrapped it around the arm he was still itching and told him to lay down. I then left him alone as I went out to continue my long list of chores.

I made my way to the little creak that ran along the edges of the oasis. I scavenged for berries and other herbs to store for later use. It was one of the most mind-numbing and time-consuming chore, and it was also the one that took me furthest away from my alcove.

However, I could no longer contain myself. I dropped the old basket and sprouted my wings. My claws dug into the nearest tree as I climbed up and jumped through the branches. My wings were slightly open to help me glide from tree to tree. I laughed like a kid, even when I missed a branch or two and smacked my face into a trunk.

I hung my legs on a branch and swung upside down, stretching my arms and wings as far as I could. My own laughing was contagious. When was the last time I felt this way? When was the last time I felt happy? The last time I felt hopeful?

Would he actually take me to see the outside world? Where did he live? How far was it? Would he actually want to come back after he's been back in his own, familiar world?

The thought sobered me. I shouldn't get too hopeful. He could already have a partner or someone he's interested in. He could be saying all these things and not actually follow through. I wouldn't be surprised if he got caught up in the outside world and completely forgot about me.

I grabbed the branch and unhooked my legs, but froze when something caught my eye. I lowered myself to the ground and peered through the tangle of roots, catching a glint of something red. Using magic, I pulled the branches away to find a strange, metal, teardrop thing. I turned it over, noting the metal rod that was bent at a 90 degree angle, and found a microphone sitting in the dip of the teardrop.

Was this his staff?

It hadn't gotten taken by the White Angels?

Something about this staff made the hairs on my arm stand up. I could feel the magic from this simple tool, magic that tasted oddly like Al. I didn't even know magic had a taste until that moment. There were faint lines along the teardrop shell, strange markings and symbols that represented him—his power, his life out there, his magic, and the truth I didn't want to face.

I idly walked back with the damaged cane and old basket in hand. What would happen if I gave him the staff? If he needed it to get home, would he up and leave me without a word? Would he take back his promise on showing me the world? Technically he didn't even promise that to me. But...it went against my moral code to keep something, with obvious importance, a secret.

Had our time finally come to an end?

I found myself back at the alcove sooner than I wanted. I raked my hand down my face, mentally braced, and slid through the bramble. I found Al messing with the string again. When he turned to look at me, his eyes immediately went to the staff in my hands. He went eerily still. Then abruptly stood up.

"You found it." He crossed the room slowly, gaze zoned in on the staff.

"It was—uh...stuck in some roots." Head lowered, I extended my arm. "Sorry that it's broken."

"Nothing a little magic can't fix." His claws wrapped around the metal and, when I let go of it, his other hand grabbed my hand before I could pull away. It wasn't a tight grip but a tense hold I wasn't expecting. He leaned down in my ear and said softly, "Thank you."

He removed the cane, and his grip, and I wrapped my arms around myself. "G-glad I could help."

He looked me over for a moment. "Is something the matter?"

"'Course not." I quickly slipped out of the bunker.

~*~

Alastor sat on the worn couch, the staff resting on his lap. His fingers traced the carvings on the back of it, as though reacquainting himself with a piece of his soul. Despite the damage, it bled magic into Alastor's veins and reinforced the amount he had been born with. It made his leg tap with a funny feeling of adrenaline.

Even so, he felt the gravity of his situation fall upon his shoulders. The quiet was too quiet. The shadows too dark and closing in. He had expected this moment to happen but he hadn't expected it so soon, but he knew he was only fooling with himself.

He dropped his cane on the table then buried his face in his hands. All he could think about was the look on your face—the forced smile and the flicker of pain behind your eyes. You had tried so hard to mask it and push him away, for his sake or your own he had no idea.

His staff glared back at him, a reminder of his life outside this sanctuary and of his responsibilities he'd been neglecting. He could only imagine what his district must be like if they learned of his sudden disappearance. Perhaps Vox finally made his move to step into Alastor's role, but even he knew that was entirely impossible. His mages—while they didn't exactly like Alastor all the time—would never accept a non-mage. If anything, Zestial was the one who took over.

His magic pulsed. He closed his eyes and reached out, his heightened magic seeping through the cracks and invisible wavelengths to where you sat crouched in the alcove. Crying. Wings wrapped tightly around yourself.

He opened his eyes to the red staff. For all his power, all his cunning, and all his control...he was utterly powerless in this moment. You had pulled him out of his element in every way and it reminded him why he had spent so many years crafting and chiseling himself into who he was—he never wanted to feel this way again.

And yet...here he was.

Another ripple through his magic. He ran his hands through his hair, pulled on it, then finally stood. He yanked the heavy door open and stepped into the afternoon light. Birds chirped overhead as a breeze flowed through the trees and bramble protecting the sanctuary.

You recoiled your wings back to their spot on your back and turned your head away, arms holding your knees to your chest. He silently sat beside you, making sure to keep enough space. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the stone. He had hoped he would come up with something to say by the time he sat down. But he hadn't. He was at a loss for words.

You sniffled softly. "I guess this means you're leaving soon."

He clasped his hands together so he didn't risk touching you. "Think me eager to leave your charming company so quickly?"

You shrugged, refusing to turn your head in his direction. "You have your staff back. You've got...some mission or job to do back home. I just figured..."

"That I'd forget all about you the moment I left?" he finished.

You didn't reply immediately. You wiped your eyes with your sleeve then turned your head to stare straight ahead. "The world is full of temptations. It's easy to get lost."

The words sounded like a recitation. Was it something you'd been told as you were growing up? That the world is full of dangerous temptations that could distract an Archivist—that could pull them away from their work? Could some of the world's long lost Archivists have given up their way of life in exchange for a blissful world of temptations?

"Well...the temptations become far less inviting the longer you live with them." He was hurting his hands with how hard he was gripping them. He wanted to touch you, to provide some sort of comfort. The him before your sanctuary would've been appalled at him now. "But yes...the world doesn't stop turning even if I've found a temporary reprieve here."

You winced at the word temporary and more tears started to build. You turned your head away again, sending more ripples through his magic.

Blast this magic. It was trying to adapt to his new mindset and it wasn't a smooth transition.

"I'm sure your...team or whatever will be happy to know you're not dead."

"Not yet."

Your body froze, then you wiped your head around, finally meeting his gaze with those beautiful eyes, albeit a little red and swollen from crying.

"I'll stay one more day," he continued, fingers finally unlocking and settling on the grass between you. "Perhaps two. I'd hate to leave you without properly overstaying my welcome."

Finally a crack of a smile on your lips. You shifted closer, accepting the arm that wrapped around your back and guided your head to lean on his shoulder. You took in a slow, deep breath of his natural scent and he did the same, soaking in that earthy scent like the day after a spring storm.

This is going to be painful, he thought.

Luckily for Alastor, he was accustomed to pain.

{|}

Alastor let two more days pass before he accepted reality.

It was time to return to the world.

He had been gone for...two weeks? Three weeks?

He waited for you to leave for a chore, giving it two minutes to ensure you weren't coming back for anything. Then he sat up, grabbed his staff, and cranked the radio on your counter. He cracked his neck then brought the wounded staff up to his mouth. He tuned the frequencies to him and his voice fizzled through.

"Good afternoon, my dear listeners! It is said that even the mightiest can fall. That the wind may tear them down, that the earth may swallow them whole, or that their enemies might, by some stroke of luck, strike them down. But legends—true legends—don't fall so easily."

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure you hadn't opened the door.

"And I've heard the rumors. I've heard the whispers in dark alleys, in the busy markets, and in hurried prayers that I may have met my demise. I would find it rather aggravating if I didn't find it so amusing. You had hoped, maybe even believed, that the storm had passed and you could continue your broken ways of living off scraps. But here my voice now—" he was really starting to get into it, "as I assure you that I remain unshaken, unbroken, and...unkillable."

He hoped Husker was listening to the radio by this point. "I have gone to the edge of the world and returned, standing before you very much alive and whole. A beacon in these dark times. For who else possesses the capability of guiding you through the chaos and uncertainty? Who else can bear the weight of Humanity's future? Of your future?"

Please get my hints, Husker. He couldn't imagine the hint passed over the feline's head. He was an alcoholic but he wasn't incompetent.

"Let this be a reminder to those who dared to raise a hand against me, to those who posses the stupidity to even consider such a notion, that their act of foolishness was just that. Foolish. I'm still here. I'm still alive. And I will remain here while there's breath in my lungs and magic in my veins."

He cleared his throat away from the microphone and changed his tone. "Now, to my faithful...worry not. I am closer than you think and watching over you as I always have. The winds have carried me to great heights and the ground beneath my feet is unfamiliar but not untamable. Trust your instincts, follow the trail of the stars to Orion's Belt and you will find me.

"This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, reminding you all that there is no hope for the future without me. Sleep well...if you can." The frequency jittered then went to white noise. He lowered the volume and let out a huge sigh of relief.

That had felt good.

"You're him."

His heart dropped and he whirled around to find you at the entrance. Your face was pale and your eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them. Why hadn't he heard you walk in?

He didn't know how to answer. You had caught him. Plain and simple. His secret was out.

~*~

"I should've known," I whispered. Al was short for Alastor. The microphone on his cane was how he tuned into the radio. The complete silence from the Radio Demon for the past three weeks while Al was here. And his voice? How did I not recognize it?

"My dear, I had planned to tell you but I—"

"You needed to tell everyone that you were unshaken, unbroken, and unkillable?"

His rubbed his fingers together. "You weren't meant to hear that. It wasn't...it was about ensuring the world knows I'm still here to keep everything in control."

"Control? You talk about guiding people through the chaos but all I hear are lies. You're not a guide. You're a conquerer." I spat the word like a bad taste in my mouth. It was.

His chest swelled with upset. "You think it's easy, what I've done? What I'm still trying to do? You think it's easy trying to keep this fragile world from descending into chaos and being devoured by their own stupidity? They don't know any better."

"And you think ruling with an iron fist—" I snapped back, "—ruling with fear as a mystic monster that everyone's too scared to defy, will save them? That's not living and that's certainly not saving Humanity."

"What would you know about saving Humanity? I've had to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that you could never understand while you sit upon a mountain of knowledge that could change everything. But you refuse to share it, giving out only slivers of that knowledge that you deem necessary for Humanity to know."

My blood ran cold.

"That's right. I know what you are. You're an Archivist." He put a hand behind his back as he crossed the room until he had backed me against the door. "A prideful legacy of manipulative hoarders who think they're higher than everyone else. All in the name of some ancient, outdated oath."

My anger returned just as fiercely, adrenaline putting aside that this was a dangerous man standing inches from me in my own home. "That outdated oath is what's keeping the last shred of Humanity safe from conquerers like you. You want to manipulate, you want to control, you want to use everything in that archive for your own gain. Not for the safety of Humanity but to secure your power above them. And I won't let that happen. I won't let you twist the past to fit your twisted future!"

"You," he jerked his head forward so I flinched back, "don't understand what's at stake. Those archives could save us from extinction but you're too stubborn to see that. You—"

"I'm keeping them so that we don't go extinct!" I interrupted. "Humanity had the Great Downfall for a reason. Those archives exist to keep us from going through another one." My hands were moving on account for my fear. Tears were rising.

"But Humanity will not know how to avoid it if you refuse to share that knowledge."

I stumbled over my words as my hands threaded through my hair. "That's not...where do you think all those pictures and articles about the Old World come from? They come from the Archivists. Our job is to share the proper knowledge so—"

"So you know better than the rest of Humanity?"

"I...well...I have all the information," I said more firmly, "and not even that because I'm not done translating everything."

He leaned back, looking down his nose at me and fang poking out of an evil smile. "You lecture me about taking control of Humanity because I know what's best for them, yet you stand here believing the same thing about yourself."

"It's different!"

"Enough of this." He turned his back and walked to the center of the bunker. "I don't need your permission. I'll do what needs to be done for Humanity's sake."

I let out a maniac laugh. "You think you can force me to give up my archive? My oath demands me to die before I give anything away to the wrong hands. And even if it didn't, I won't let you control me. I won't be your pawn, Alastor. I won't let you or anyone else use me to keep this twisted nightmare alive. I won't let you!"

There was silence as my voice reverberated off the walls. My chest heaved from the adrenaline rush, my heart racing with the anticipation of his next move. I was outmatched. I would not survive this if he chose to attack me.

His back was still turned to me, but his tone shifted as he said, "You're right. I don't control you. But you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

"I should've let you die," I muttered.

~*~

His eyes widened and he slowly turned around.

"I should've let you bleed out," you went on. "I should've listened to my instincts and let you die alone. None of this would've ever happened and I would've spared Humanity from the Radio Demon."

His eyes narrowed and his shadow seemed to darken in the lantern light.

Your voice dropped, hands reaching up to hug yourself. "I should've known it was too good to be true. That someone...that someone would want to actually...want to be with me." Alastor's anger abated as quickly as it had surfaced. More softly you added, "I would've spared myself, too."

He didn't see an Archivist. He saw you. Scared, unsure, alone, and wanting someone to just spend time with you. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. "Well, you can stop the act now. You're no longer welcome here." His teeth ground together. "I'll take you to the edge of the forest where you'll wait for your people to find you."

"So that's it?" he growled. "You're going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"You tricked me!" you practically screamed. "You pretended this whole time just to get close to me so you could have access to my archive."

"And so did you!" he returned. "Keeping your true nature a secret."

"But you didn't tell me you were the Radio Demon."

He looked away. He had been the one to hide the most secrets, but none of them weighed as much as the single secret you held onto. He hadn't wanted this conversation to go this way. He had wanted to introduce it to you slowly, gradually. Instead, he had ruined it.

No.

The Archivists had ruined it. Them and their secrets and stupid oath. If it wasn't for that oath then you wouldn't be fighting him to such an extreme.

You dragged the door open and withdrew the ribbon from your pocket. "I will take you to the edge of the forest," you repeated.

He was the Radio Demon. He had the power to confine you to this small space. He had the power to twist your bones until they snapped. He had the power to see just how far you were willing to follow your oath.

And yet...he didn't.

{|}

My arms tensed before swinging the axe down. The log splintered in half straight down the middle. I wrenched the tool out of the stump and placed another log on it, repeating the process several times more.

It had been a few weeks since Alastor left and he still hadn't shown any signs of returning to light my forest aflame. Perhaps he was still preparing.

"It's protected. It's guarded. It's hidden. It will not be found unless they scowl the oasis with a team of a hundred."

My mother's words echoed in my mind day-in and day-out. Three times a day I flew to the highest building to check the horizon, sometimes even more if I was paranoid enough, but there was nothing I could do if I saw his ship. Eventually, he would find it.

I was wracked with guilt so intense it left me horribly sick. My chores were sloppy and I came down with a cold left and right. However, there was a small part of me that was grateful. I could meet my demise as I fought for my Archive, rather than feel guilt over committing suicide. It was a honorable death for an Archivist, and I could burn my archive before he returned so his victory would be hollow.

I pursed my lips. I could still remember the feeling of our last kiss. I could still remember the feeling of his fingers interlocked with mine. I could still remember the feeling of his arm wrapped around my waist, of his teasing remarks, of him squinting at the cards in an effort to read them, of the feeling of his hands touching my feathers and messaging the muscles of my armwing.

Most of all, I could remember the stark difference between Al and the Radio Demon.

"You're right. I don't control you. But if you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

I held the axe behind my back and swung it with a scream. Birds flew out of the treetops as I fell to my knees, still screaming. My wings sprouted and flapped once to push me quickly to my feet.

"Fuck you!" I screamed into the open air, arms swinging at nothing. "Fuck you! How dare you trick me into thinking you cared about me. How dare you manipulate me!" I fell back on my knees and pounded my fists into the grass. I grabbed the nearest log and threw it at a nearby tree. "How fucking dare you!"

My screams suddenly turned into ugly sobs. I wrapped my arms around myself as I sunk to the ground and curled up. My body shook with every sob, eventually leading to vomiting what little breakfast I had forced myself to eat. Twice.

Tears streaming down my face and snot dripped out of my nose. I tilted my head back to look at the clear blue sky. My lips quivered as I mumbled, "Fuck you for abandoning me like everyone else."

I was alone all over again.

He had made me feel happy. He had made me forget about my grim destiny. He had made me enjoy the present. He had made me feel...not alone.

Then suddenly ripped that all away, leaving me feeling even more alone than when he first found me.

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

Author’s Note:

This was a little painful to write. But remember, the bad must happen for the good to feel great! Alastor has a lot to do to make up for this ;)

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

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette

#archivists oath #demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin imagine #alastor

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zialltops · 1 year ago

Text

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: phew this chapter was hard to write because all i want it for them to kiss already. these two are so at each others throats that i cant WAIT to write that in the form of the devils tango. please let me know what you guys think, comments fuel my desire to write🤍

Masterlink

AO3 Link 🤍

Chapter 2: Northern Attitude

Three days of bad weather pass before Joel is able to get the truck out of the snow to drag your car out of the embankment—but he chooses not to anyway. He’s spent the last three days working and avoiding you, because he can’t keep his head from spouting off about how much you piss him off and how good you look doing it.

And piss him off, you do. The morning after your first night home, Joel was shoveling off the steps and the front driveway when you came out of the house in a pair of pants that look like they have been in your closet for years because god damn, they are tight. He doesn’t miss the look on your face when you find your way into the snow where he’s working. “Like my stupid fucking shoes? I wore them so I’d look nice when I saw my parents—thought there was some delicious cowboy here to impress. But now they are all I have to wear because some bullheaded asshole left my car on the side of the road with all of my belongings in it.”

Him, being the bullheaded asshole instead of the delicious cowboy. He’s fuming, if he wasn’t already panting, he’s sure there would be steam rolling out of his ears right about now. He can't stand you. Cant stand your cocky attitude and the way you hold your hands on your hip’s—those sexy little fucking—Joel! “Should have known better than to show up in the middle of winter in those damn heels. You did that to yourself. You should know the only thing you’re findin’ here is cow shit and snow.” You cross your arms and look over his shoulder. “Yeah—nothing but bullshit here.” He turns to find Tommy, his eyes on your figure in your stupidly tight outfit, he’d always been the bolder of the two. “Nice shoes…y’know, they do seem practical, you’re a few inches above the cold, y’know? Don’t ya think, Joel?” You smile at him and Joel sees red, that trading asshole. “Y’know, I was still gonna pull you out, bullheaded asshole here was the one who insisted we leave you.”

If Joel was a better man, he’d tell his brother to fuck off—but he’s not, so he socks him in the mouth and gives him a nasty bruise and a split lip. Both of you hightail it away from the driveway and Joel gets back to his shoveling.

Since that day, it’s been a non-stop onslaught of demeaning remarks. You sneer at him when you pass him in the halls, so he sticks to the hunting cabin he and Tommy occupy for a whole day. When he comes in for supper, you sneer at him again. “What, do you just hide out all day, doing jack shit?” He started this, he knows that, and there isn’t much he can do since he left you for dead on the side of the road a few days ago. He huffs at you when he sits down across from you while everyone else gets their plates in the kitchen. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and an aggravated shout. “I’ve been taking care of the cattle, what the hell have you been doing all day, huh? With that big fancy degree? Hid in the house all day and do your nails?” The nails in question are a sharp blue color, a homage to the crisp skies as the sun sets amongst the gloomy clouds, radiating dark indigo across the plains. His stomach curls when his brain supplies the image of them wrapped around his cock—both your little hands, manicured and soft and—son of a—“Actually, I think I forgot to check the fences. Miss Lou, do you mind if I pack this up to go?” He did forget, and he should do that, but it could have waited another day. He really needs a reason to get away from your accusing eyes right now, away from the way you unwillingly make him feel ridged all over.

He checks all the fences on the half mile walk to the hunting cabin, eats his supper at the sad little table and tries (he fucking tries, okay?) to keep his hands off himself. It aches, aches when he gets hard, like a damn weight between his legs that makes him feel dizzy from lack of blood in his poor muddled brain. He gets crazy—can't stand the thought of another person having so much control over his senses that he can't control his own bodily functions. He hates that you’ve weaseled your way in to his weaknesses—pretty eyes, smarter than him, hard to get with an attitude. It pisses him off so bad that his body reacts before his mind can gain clarity enough to tell himself no. But how can he, when all he can think about is what this is doing to him.

He cant stop thinking about how much of a bitch you are, about the type of men you probably pulled while off in collage and how you expected some kind of Adonis and what you got was just Joel. Your disappointment in his mere existence does nothing to flag how hard he is when he finally gets his hands in his pants. It should be alarming how fast he’s got himself on the edge on the image of you glaring him down, blackmailing him just so he can be your own personal verbal punching bag.

What the fuck is wrong with him, that being treated like garbage gets him so worked up. Is it because he knows it's something he'll never have? Like nothing else in the world can, you’ve got him hot and stiff in his large hand, after three days of knowing you, his head tipped back against his pillow and his eternal gratefulness that Tommy is still eating supper at the main house. At least he wont have to witness the way Joel’s resolve goes down the drain when he thinks about those pretty eyes, those nimble fingers and that bratty little attitude. He cums when he thinks about your stupid fucking shoes and how angry you are at him that you’re stuck wearing them.

Tomorrow, he’ll tell you he still cant get your car out, even if all the fucking snow melts, just so he can watch you walk around in them for a little longer, so he can hate you a little bit more. Maybe his distaste will bleed out the want, but Joel has never been that lucky.

———

It’s damn late by the time Tommy makes it home—or maybe it’s not, but Joel's guilty hand found the neck of a bottle a few moments after washing it clean, so he’s completely lost track of time. Drowning his troubles was the best thing he could come up with, so he tipped the bottle back until it was empty and his head felt like it was in a fish bowl.

The door throws open when he’s leaned all the way back in a chair at the little dining table, his bottle sitting empty in front of him and his mind reeling. “Close the damn door, it’s freezing!” He doesn’t open his eyes, because he’s got the spins and the last thing he wants to do right now is throw up.

“Aint me.” He hears Tommy’s voice somewhere in the living room and he finally peeks an eye open and glances towards the door.

“You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?” It’s you, standing in the doorway and letting in all the cold residing outside of these walls. Joel attempts to lean forward, but his weight wobbles and the chair falls backwards on the hardwood. “This is why this ranch doesn’t make any profit. You spend your days drunk off your ass, don’t you?” Her tone is so accusing and snappy, if Joel had half a mind he would pull himself off this floor and give her a piece of it.

“S’the end of the day, I’m not workin’, ‘n I can do whatever I want.” He pulls himself up using the table and he stand there for a moment, trying to let his head catch up with the rest of his body. “I came down here to tell you I want my car out tomorrow morning first thing. But, by the looks of it you wont be good for a damn thing in the morning.”

He groans and walks over to the door on wobbly legs, his vision is blurry but the drunk part of his brain supplies that you walked all the way here with Tommy just to bark orders at him. So, Tommy is definitely a fucking traitor, getting cozy with you when he knows how irritating Joel finds you to be. Even if you look damn good with those wind bitten red cheeks that would look so good hallowed out around his—c’mon, Joel. “I’ll be up before you, smartass. I have livestock to feed, ‘sides, I told you I'd pull it out when I could. Snow’s still too thick.” Joel uses the door frame to hold him up while you look him over from the porch. “I wasn’t asking you to pull it out, Im telling you.” Telling him? Like he’s not his own goddamned person, who makes decisions around here of his own? Hank asked him over a year ago to manage the ranch on his own—he’s been the one calling the shots here for some time, so what gives you the right to stand on his porch and tell him what he’s going to do?

“You might be the all reining princess in their eyes, but do not push me, Honey. I’m not the one to fuck with,” your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest like that might somehow make him second guess his boldness. You take a few steps closer and puff your chest out, point your nose up at him with a hard glare. “What are you going to do about it, huh? Not a damn thing.” Actually, one thing does come to mind and it takes everything in Joels power not to grab you by your hair and bend you over the back of the couch, show you exactly what he’s going to do about it.

Instead, he stands there in the frigid air, looking down at you like a pissed off little mouse staring down an alley cat, so fucking brave that he questions if he’s an alley cat at all. “When you can run this ranch by yourself, then you can look down your nose at me, but until then, you’re going to need some taller stupid fucking shoes.” He wouldn’t have the balls to say these things to you if not for the whiskey burning through his veins. Actually, he’s been pretty weary of telling you off, because the last thing he needs is you telling your parents, who obviously would believe you over him. But right now? Fresh off half a bottle and a mind numbing orgasm? He has all the courage in the world.

“I want my car out. I want my things and my clothes. You have until tomorrow night, or my parents can find new ranch hands.” He scoffs and his anxiety only bubbles up a little bit—he’ll pay for it tomorrow, but right now he’s pissed. “Well you better hurry back there and get on it. I’ll tell ya what—I’ll even help you hang up the flyers, hows that sound?” Your face is beat red in an attempt to contain your anger, your eyebrows are drawn together in the kind of pout that makes Joel chub up in his sleep pants. He’d rather sleep out in the snow than to have you see the way your attempt at aggravation works him up, so he starts to close the door on himself. “Better get to it, unless you want to be the one up at four thirty to feed.” He closes the door, turns his body and lets himself slump against the wood. His palm finds the front of his pants and he pushes, attempting to quell the sudden rush of blood that makes his head spin more than the alcohol in his system. “Damn…she’s gettin’ to you, huh?”

It’s Tommy’s obnoxious fucking voice in his head, standing near the hallway to the two small bedrooms. “Fuck off, Tommy, you know how it is for me.” The younger man laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'm just sayin’, it’s kind of funny. Nobody gets under your skin like that. Does fightin’ really do it for you?” His voice is dripping with amusement and Joel wants to punch him again. “It ain’t the fightin’.” Tommy rolls his eyes when Joel reaches into his pants to adjust the discomfort. “Oh, thats right. Your shitty attitude comes sometime after she gets your big ol’—“ Joel growls at him, ”Tommy, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’m going to drag you out in the snow and beat your ass.”

It does the trick, because Tommy knows Joel isn’t kidding, he’s always been the stronger of the two, the one who’s always put Tommy in his place and he’s never been afraid to sock him square in his mouth when he runs it like he is now. “You know it bothers me when I can't control it. I can’t hide it. And she just—she—she’s one of them girls you know? The one’s that you don’t stand a chance with but they rub it in your face anyways and I can’t fucking stand it. It’s embarrassin’.”

He leans away from the door and makes his way over to the couch. When he plops down, his head finds his hands and he drags his calloused fingers through his curly, wind whipped locks. “What if you did stand a chance? Been a really long time since you’ve let yourself have anything.” Tommy finds the seat beside him and their heated argument shifts into a tender conversation, one brother to another, one man to his best friend in the whole world. “Ain’t about what I can have, tom, she’s Hanks daughter and I’m double her age, at least. This,” he gestures to himself vaguely. “This is the last thing a girl like her wants to get themselves tied up in. Can’t—one and done it like you can. Takes some…workin’ up to.”

Tommy pushes his shoulder with a small snort. “Always wondered how you got that thing in anyone.” He hasn’t wondered—he’s asked for years, and Joel being the closed off man he is, never had the heart to spill his bed-mates secrets. But there hasn’t been anyone for years, certainly not someone like you who can get him going faster than anyone he’s ever met. “Just—lots of…stretching. Things I can't do during a tumble in the hay, alright? And not everyone wants to deal with that—fuck know’s I don’t.”

Deal with the rejection of someone seeing him naked and kindly (or not so kindly) telling him that they aren’t interested anymore, deal with the look of shock women give him when he’s pressed up against them—when they feel it. He’s tired of it—so he doesn’t try anymore. Having you at his doorstep, flooring that desire in him? He can't deal with that. “I always thought it would be kind of an appeal to women, don’t they like that? I mean, I didn’t get your genes but I’m not doin’ too bad, they seem to like it.” Not doing too bad? To be normal, lead a normal life where he doesn’t have to bring anxieties to a moment he should only bring pleasure? “It ain’t all puppies and rainbows, man…nine times out of ten were good and they’re into it until I get my pants off. Then they hightail it out of there before I even have a chance to explain myself.”

It’s an embarrassing conversation to have with your brother, but Joel is grateful that he at least has someone he can talk about this with, above all else. The years he’s struggled, the supposed highs that only led to disappointment. It's been one minuscule moment of rejection after another, and he’s not asking for a lot, just to feel what everyone else gets to feel—normal, wanted, less like a freak and more like something to be desired. All for something he can’t change about himself, because believe him he wants to.

“I’m sorry man…I can’t relate, but I know how hard it is for you. One day, some crazy bitch is going to love your…terrifying dick.” He snorts loudly and rolls his eyes at his little brother. “Today ain’t the day, but thanks, Tom…” his head is still spinning and if he doesn’t go to bed soon, he won't make it out to feed before the sun hits the horizon. Tommy heads to his room, but Joel finds a blanket and curls up on the couch with a trash can at his side—just incase he needs to throw up before morning comes and he sobers up.

———

He does make it out to feed. It takes him an hour to get a hundred and fifty heads of cattle fed—he can’t wait till spring when they can be turned out to pasture, when half of them are sold off and the breeding season restarts. The cold, stand still winters drive him crazy on every ranch he’s ever worked, but this one more than most, because the cold is bone deep and there's you now, to drive him crazy in every possible direction.

When he’s done with the cattle, he takes inventory of the feed room, make’s a list to take with himself to town when the roads are cleared, then makes his way over to the stable. If there is one thing he can find solitude in, it’s snorting, fussing, grouchy ass horses early in the morning. They’ll kick at the stalls until he’s filled their feeders, snort cold air at him like they don’t want his company—he finds a lot of himself in the equine’s, misunderstood unless you get to know them like he has. He finds that his favorite place to be is in a saddle, pushing cattle through spring summer and fall, just him and them and all the trust in each other they have to offer.

Once they are fed, he finds his tack bucket and pulls open the stall to a young mare they’d bought last summer. She was ready to break this spring, but Hank had all but given up on the Morgan. So much so that he’d handed Joel her bridle one morning and told him “if you can get through to her, she’s all yours, son.”

She wasn’t a big horse, compared to others over her breed, but she had an untamable mane and tail that Joel has to keep braided or it becomes a rat's nest. She’s all over the place, spooky with a fear of water that Joel can't seem to help her get over. For such a pretty little Palomino, she sure has a lot of fight in her.

“Hey, pissy girl.” He hums when she flicks her tail at him, pulling her head out of her feeder just long enough to look back at him. He’s been the only person she lets in the stall since they got her, the only person who can give her a good brush down and stand behind her without getting a hoof to the chest. “Don’t look at me like that, okay? I had stuff to do before I could bring you guys breakfast. Besides, you’re gettin’ fat.” He pats her on her flank, watches dust come up under his hand. He starts brushing her down when he hears the stable doors come open. He knows it's not Tommy, because he’s in the north field checking on the heifers who are getting ready to calf. They still have a few more weeks, but it's good to keep track in the middle of the kind of storms they’ve been getting. The last thing they need is losing a calf to this kind of cold.

“Joel? You in here?” It’s Hanks booming voice in the desolate stable. “Yeah, I’m in here Hank!” He sets down the brush and steps out of the stall because he knows Hank won't come in it. “I was tryin’ to find you before my daughter did. She been through here yet?” His stomach drops and curls—did she tell him? About the argument they had on his porch last night? That he was drunk off his ass drowning his emotions like he always has? “I don’t know what she might have…told you, but it was at home—the cows were good, animals fed, I wasn’t—“ Hank makes a face and shakes his head. “Son, I ain’t mad at you for nothin’. I told her you’re allowed to have a few drinks when you’re done with your work. She can be very…aggravating, if anyone knows that it's me. I just wanted to apologize before she comes in a raging ball of fire because shes embarrassed about her shoes.”

Embarrassed? She’s embarrassed about walking around in those boots that make her ass look like it was sculpted by gods? Those damn shoes that can get him hard in an instant? “She’s embarrassed about them?”

Hank cracks a soft smile and puts his hands on his hips. “Most of that fire comes from a hurt place. She's all bark and no bite—“ Joel scoffs. “She just about bit my head off last night. I might have said some things I shouldn’t have.” Hank has always been understanding and kind the entire time Joel has known him. “I know, we talked about it. She said I need new ranch hands and I told her I don’t trust anyone to run this ranch but you. Don’t worry, I won't let her run you off. I really thought college would set her straight, but she’s still got that stubborn attitude of hers. Just—keep yourself busy and she’ll give up eventually. Don’t be afraid to defend yourself, either. I’m not going to get mad at you for standing up to her.”

Its more of a relief than he thought it would be to hear Hank stick up for him. You must have ran home to tattle on him, but knowing Hank has his back eases the anxiousness built up in him from the night before. “Anyways…when you see her, maybe Tommy can take her to get her things until we can get her car out, so she can get off of everyones back.” It’s going to have to be Tommy—there's no way in hell Joel can handle being in a car with her by himself with his current situation. “Absolutely, thank you Hank.” The man heads out the door with a genuine smile. “Don’t be too late for breakfast! Louise made fresh jam.”

Breakfast sounds like a dream to his empty stomach, so he gets back to the task at hand so he can spare himself a few minutes of downtime to eat before he gets back to work. He steps back into the stall, runs his hand across the top of his horse's back and sighs. “Maybe I should cut her some slack, huh Cersei? You’re kind of a bitch, but you’re still my favorite girl.” The horse nickers at him, flicks her tail and waits patiently for him to get back to brushing out her winter coat.

———

It’s breakfast when he finally sets eyes on you again, but you aren’t in those damn shoes—you’re barefoot like that's somehow any better. You’re barefoot in what looks like an old pair of your pajamas, like you just rolled out of bed when it’s already eight in the morning. “Look what the cat dragged in.” You sneer at him a little when he sits down across from you with his plate. Tommy hasn’t made it inside yet and Hank and Louise are in the living-room after they’ve already finished eating.

“I’ve been up for hours, what were you doing? Cant learn to manage a ranch if you sleep until eight in the morning.” Joel feels like he has the upper hand, and based on the look on your face, you know it too. “That’s what I have you for, to do all the grunt shit I don’t want to. I slept like a baby.” Joel on the other hand tossed and turned all night, willing away his morning wood for hours until he finally gave in and wrapped his hand around himself in the dark of his room under his soft quilt, where your prying eyes couldn’t reach.

It’s the only damn thing keeping him from chubbing up in his jeans, looking at you across the table in a pair of sleep shorts that ride up and leave little to his imagination. He thinks about how easy it would be to pull them aside and slip his fingers through your lips—if he would be able to get you wet. It’s enough to get him excited, so he tries to find a way out before it becomes too big of a problem.

“Where are you going?” He looks down at his plate, devising a plan to leave with it, so he can at least finish his breakfast. “Uhm…I have a lot to do today, figured I would get back to it while the day is young.” You push your chair back and stand as well, Joel’s eyes must have a mind of their own because they track up your bare thighs to the bottom of your shorts that have ridden up so much the fabric is pulled tight along the outline of your center—goddamn he can fucking see your pussy. He makes a sharp sound, choking on the spit building up in his mouth as it waters.

“You aren’t doing anything until you get my car out, you hear me? I’m not walking around another second like this.” You gesture to yourself—Joel couldn’t agree more. You need to wear clothes that fit you if he wants to keep his dick to himself. “Tommy is going to take you, he’ll be in soon.” You shake your head at him with a huff. “No, I don’t want Tommy taking me, he’s not the one responsible for leaving my car in the snow. You are getting my car out.”

He wants to argue some more, but arguing with you makes him horny and the last thing he needs is to be that worked up in a car with you for an extended period of time.

“Fuck—alright, fine—give me fifteen minutes and I’ll meet you at the truck.”

It’s a shit ass excuse to run back to the cabin and spend ten minutes jacking off as fast as he can fucking manage so he can control himself in the truck. It’s a futile attempt to control the way Hanks spitfire of a daughter makes him hotter than the surface of the sun.

You are going to be the death of him.

#cowboy joel miller #cowboy joel #cowboy au #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #joel tlou #enemies to lovers #set in Wyoming #dbf joel miller

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witchthewriter · 2 months ago

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒅 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝑺𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒉

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝑊𝑂.

Pairing: Happy x OC/Commissioned

Word Count: 2k

@a-kayy47.

ANNIE.

You had gotten home much later than you promised Kayleigh.

Opening the front door and stepping in, you could feel the warmth of your home. It was cosy, even with the lights turned off, and you could feel yourself loosen up. The familiar scent of rosemary lingered in the air, a testament to the essential oils you religiously diffused. The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the gentle creak of the wooden floorboards beneath your feet were comforting reminders of the sanctuary you had created.

Walking up the stairs, you aimed for your daughter’s room. Without fail, every single night you gave her a kiss while she was asleep. No matter what time you got home, you still did it. It let your baby girl know you were home, safe, without waking her up. It was like she had a sixth sense when it came to you.

On those nights when you hadn’t kissed her, she knew. She would wake up the next morning and say, “did you forget to do something last night?”

So, at nearly four in the morning, you dragged your tired arse up to her room and smooched her cheek. Her hair was a mess on the pillow, her arms wrapped around her favourite toy. Kayleigh looked so much younger while she slept. It reminds you of those years before Charming. Struggling to make ends meet, doing it all on your own. Eighteen with a newborn. No one to lean on. No partner. No family. Just your strength. And the desire to make your daughter’s life the best it can be.

As you made your way down the stairs, you saw your neighbor/baby-sitter/best friend asleep on the couch, her phone inches away from her face. You know she kept it close in case of emergencies.

When you first moved to Charming, you had gotten along with Dallas within minutes of meeting her. You remember it like it was yesterday. You had been so scared moving to a new town. And yet, she made you feel at ease instantly.

She had shaken your hand gently with soft hands and long acrylic red nails. Dallas seemed to glimmer (and she did – never leaving the house without covering herself in shimmer cream.) You liked her instantly. You could tell she was genuine. Because there was a sadness in her eyes that she covered up as much kindness as she could.

And so, you trusted her with Kayleigh. She didn’t mind babysitting, not at all. It also helped that you gave her free makeup and hair appointments. It was a win-win. Especially when Kayleigh had gotten attached to the town’s former beauty queen.

You smiled, covering Dallas with a blanket before heading to your own room. Sleep came quickly but lasted only a few hours.

HAPPY.

The Club needed Happy for an … issue. They always came to him when they had these particular problems. He was good at it. Harsh, unyielding and discreet. Okay, sometimes not so discreet. But he handled it, no matter how gruesome it became. Because sometimes a gun wasn’t the best way to get a man to talk.

When Happy was younger, he used to grapple with the thoughts of guilt and shame. With age, with more violence; that slowly disappeared. Like clouds moving to cover the sun, those feelings too were covered.

Now the only thing that seemed to redeem Happy was his family. That’s what made him feel the light. The weight of death was easy to shrug off when those he loved surrounded him. His mother, his sisters, his aunts, nieces and nephews; they mean the world to him.

But the Club is, his life. And what they ask, he will do.

That’s how he got to where he is now. Tig the only other Son with him as they pried information out of the man in front of them.

The lights were dimmed, the walls had been painted a dark brown – nearly black. The floor was covered with a tarp, the closest bench had various tools atop it, some clean, some bloodied.

There was a constant drip, drip, drip, of blood. Only Happy could hear it, Tig had turned up the music to cover the screams. Except this man hadn’t been screaming. The only noise that came out of him was a deep grunt.

He was tied to a chair. Pinkies cut from the bone. Taking ten digits to eight.

Happy was quite impressed by the way this man held his tongue. No information spilled from his mouth. Not yet.

Happy wiped his brow, the sweat mixing with the blood on his hands. Tig's eyes met his, a silent conversation passing between them. They needed answers and this was taking too long.

Out came the sharper tool, and though resilient, the man was beginning to falter. Happy knew this was it, he could see it in the man's eyes—desperation, fear, and the tiniest flicker of surrender.

"Just tell us what we need to know," Tig growled, his patience wearing thin. But the man remained silent, his resolve steadfast despite the agony he endured.

Happy's thoughts drifted briefly to his family, the light in his otherwise dark world. He wondered what his mother would think if she saw him now, covered in blood, forcing confessions out of men. But he shook the thought away; this was his life, and he had made peace with it.

"Last chance," Happy said, his voice cold and unyielding. "Talk, or we'll make you wish you had."

The man's eyes flickered with a moment of hesitation. Happy leaned in closer, and the man spilled information like a teakettle boiling over.

ANNIE.

You felt as if you had barely slept.

The alarm beeped and you thought ‘surely I pressed the wrong button.’ But you heard the tapping of feet on the ground and then a small body rushed towards you.

“Mum!” Kayleigh wrapped her arms around you and kissed your hair. Blinking away the drowsiness, you smiled at her and dragged her closer to you.

“Hey baby,” you murmured, snuggling into her. Happiness bubbled in your stomach as you stroked her hair. Soft and smooth, even if it was a partial nest on her head. But as the timer kept going off, you knew you had to get up for another day.

Exhaustion had gotten the better of you, and autopilot had kicked in. After packing Kayleigh’s lunchbox for school, getting her ready and then yourself, you locked the front door and got the both of you in the car.

You didn’t notice the black car parked in Dallas’ driveway. Not until Kayleigh asked if your neighbor had gotten a new car.

“Huh? Oh, uh. I think she would have told us if she got a new one,” but you looked in your rearview mirror as you drove away.

The salon was already open by the time you arrived. School drop off was always longer than expected. Especially with the type of parents that were there. Always wanting to talk (gossip) or complain.

You knew not many liked you. Saw you as too outspoken,

But you couldn’t get the thought of that big black car in Dallas’ driveway. She had left before you woke up. She always did.

And usually she sends you a message – yet you realized she hadn’t. There was nothing from her. And that’s when the alarm bells went off. You knew her job, and that it had its’ risks.

“Shit,” you muttered. Something felt wrong; and you couldn’t turn to the police. So, there was only one choice.

You rang Gemma from outside the salon. Her appointment wasn’t for another four hours; so, you couldn’t wait for her to come in. You had to chase after her… and god did it make you feel anxious.

Months ago, you swapped numbers. You thought she was just being polite, but little did you know she saw you struggling. A mother alone, barely any help, working as many jobs as she could handle. Gemma felt for you. So, she offered to help whenever you needed it.

And you need it now.

“Hey Annie, is everything alright?”

“Um, no. I don’t think it is – my friend. I think she’s in trouble. I need your help.”

At the other end of the line, Gemma was tickling Thomas on the tummy as he laid down. His feet kicking in the air. She was enamored by her grandson and nearly missed your words. She thought maybe her appointment needed to be rescheduled.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought you might be having a heart attack. You were a mix of hot and cold, sweating and freezing.

“It’s okay honey. Just tell me what’s up and we’ll get it all sorted out.”

HAPPY.

It took a while for the fucker to break but he did in the end. Now the two Sons rode in a beat-up van, in the back, the man’s body was wrapped in the tarp. Dead. It was always going to end that way. But some guys just held out hope that it wouldn’t. This one did, until his right hand had no fingers left. And his left ear was gone.

The van rumbled along the highway, a trail of dust kicking up behind them.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke, mingling with the faint metallic tang of blood. The silence between them was comfortable, each man lost in his thoughts.

There was a sudden and constant buzz in Happy’s pocket. His mobile rang. He was the type of person to always check his phone as soon as it went off. Always scared it could be his mother – or about her.

But the caller ID was familiar.

Happy picked it up and answered.

“Really? Yeah no, no it’s fine. Just let us … get cleaned up and we’ll be there.”

“Who was that?” Tig asked, one hand on the wheel, the other holding a cigarette.

“Gemma…she needs us to help someone.”

“Do we know this person?” Tig urged on. He was a glutton for gossip just like the mother’s at drop off and pick up.

“Nah, but she seems pretty important to Gemma.”

Tig took another drag, “huh, wonder why.”

Happy tucked the phone back in his pocket and stared out the window, the landscape blurring into shades of brown and green. Tig took a long drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face like a ghostly veil.

"You think this is gonna be trouble?" Happy asked, breaking the silence.

Tig shrugged, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "When ain't it? But if Gemma's involved, you know it's important. We just gotta handle it."

Happy nodded. He knew the drill. They both did. Loyalty to the club and to each other was paramount. And if Gemma needed them to do something, they weren't about to question it. Especially as she asked them personally.

But before they could help with Gemma, they had to dispose of the body.

The address and information Gemma messaged confused Happy. He knew this town, and something didn’t make much sense.

“What's the matter?” Tig glanced over, noticing the tension in Happy's jaw.

“This is a fucken salon Tig.”

Tig barked out a laugh, “I mean it ain’t our job to question…and I ain’t questioning Gemma. But ugh, you think we gotta go in?”

Happy glanced at Tig, bemused. “Guess we’ll find out. But I’m not sittin’ around gettin’ my nails done, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Tig chuckled, the sound deep and rough. “Ya know what. I might.”

Both men laughed, but Tig was just that unpredictable that Happy thought one day he might.

They pulled up to the salon, the white exterior blended with the rows of shops. It was a small strip of stores, becoming busier and busier as the day went on. The sunshine glared down on the men, and both slipped their sunglasses on.

Tig threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. “Ready?”

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