#rosie is serving her right now!!!!

[pricetagged]

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

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

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

[velvet4510]

I just want to say to my fellow female Tolkien fans that we should not feel ashamed for loving these books that are admittedly male-centric.

It’s tempting to call Tolkien a sexist for including so few female characters in his legendarium - and I admit that yes he was not entirely free of sexism - but we must remember that the women he did include are the epitome of girl power and some of the best role models we could ask for: strong and willful and noble and brave, without sacrificing their femininity to prove themselves.

It’s glorious to me how you can flip through the books and see page after page of men doing everything … and then suddenly:

There’s Varda creating the Stars, Sun, and Moon!!

There’s Yavanna saving her trees by inspiring the creation of the Ents!!

There’s Melian making an Elf king forget his own people and then shielding an entire kingdom!!

There’s Lúthien defeating Sauron himself AND Morgoth himself!!!

There’s Idril preventing the complete annihilation of her people by creating the secret path out of Gondolin!!

There’s Galadriel resisting the One Ring!!

There’s Éowyn killing the lord of the Nazgûl!!

There’s Ioreth saving the victims of the Black Breath through her knowledge that the king will be the healer!!

There’s Arwen bridging the gap between Elves and Men as Queen of Gondor!!

There’s 100-year-old Lobelia beating Ruffians with her umbrella and leaving money in her will to help homeless hobbits!!

There’s Rosie raising 13 kids while simultaneously serving the whole Shire as Mistress of Bag End!!

There’s Elanor guarding and preserving the Red Book so that we can read it now!!!

That’s why I just can’t hold too big of a grudge about this. Yes, Tolkien didn’t write female characters too often, and it would’ve been fantastic if there were more. But when he did write them, they were amazing.

And on top of that, his male characters display literally our dream level of healthy masculinity in a man. Frodo, Sam, Aragorn, Faramir, etc. are our wish fulfillment. We have every right to enjoy that.

[sleepymarimo]

𝕕𝕠 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨?

summary: you're constantly on his mind, but he isn't quite sure if you feel the same. he really can't get you out of his head! pairing: luffy x gn!reader cw: takes place during sabaody, return to sabaody, etc. so potential spoiler warning? an: luffy is such a sweetheart wc: 800 ⤷ based on this song! ⤷ part of this arctic monkeys mini event!

when it came to the pirate empress and her overly affectionate gestures, luffy didn't really feel... well, anything. he didn't pay her any mind. why would he? she wasn't the one running through his mind at light speed. her smile wasn't the one that made the harsh winds and blistering heat of ruskaina easier to bear.

there was one thing that rubbed him the wrong way, though. when the shichibukai would clap her hands together, caress her reddening cheeks and speak in that sultry tone of hers. "i'd make a wonderful wife for you, don't you think?"

an image of you pops into his head, his brows furrowing at boa's proposal.

"i'm not gonna marry you!!" because i already belong to someone else!

two whole years without you? each day felt like a lifetime, that was for sure. it makes him feel even worse when he remembers that fateful day. he swears he can see you. with eyes full of fear and your hand reaching out, you pleaded for him to help.

then? you were just gone.

because he was too weak.

he clenches his fists at the thought.

the events of impel down and marineford served well enough to keep his mind preoccupied. in the times that he came close to death, he'd just picture your smile. now that he was on ruskaina, he had all the time in the world to think about you, to remember every second that you graced him with your presence.

now, he lays on the cold ground after another day of training. of survival.

he wonders if you're out there on the sea, on some island, staring up at the same moon he is. are you smiling? he hopes so, because that would mean you're thinking of him, right?

it feels like ages since he'd last seen you. well, not counting the dreams he had of you nearly every night.

when the thousand sunny comes into view, when you come into view, his heart feels about ready to burst. every molecule in his rubber body seems to vibrate with utter excitement. thanks to his newfound and sharp observation haki, he swears he can feel so much more of you. it's a magical thing, to see and feel your aura swirling around him.

"luffy!" you call, already taking some steps toward him. "look at you, you're so much stronger!"

he snickers and adjusts his hat, his cheeks taking on a rosy color. "of course i am! now i can protect you!" before he can take a step towards you and engulf you in an embrace, the sound of cannon fire rings in the air.

some marine ships put a damper on the reunion, but his smile remains engraved onto his face. because he has you now, duh!

his lips do pucker into a disgruntled pout when he hears that familiar voice, soft and sultry, calling for him. of course the empress had to see him off. how could she not?

"luffy, the kuja will handle these marines!" she coos, unable to quite look him in the eyes. "a wife can't let her husband be hampered down by such weak foes."

the captain sees how your brows furrow, in confusion or exasperation he can't quite tell. he does know that he sure as hell did not want to be called someone's husband, especially in front of you.

"stop saying that!" he'd snap, cheeks puffed and waving a fist in the air. "i already said i'm not gonna marry you!"

his gaze snaps to you, hoping that you'd see his display. he wants you to see that not even the most beautiful woman in the world could sway him. he wants to show you that he wasn't falling for anyone, because he's been yours for as long as he can remember.

when the ship of the kuja pirates is finally out of sight, the thousand sunny plunging into the deep sea, luffy finally allows himself to properly bask in your presence. his grin is all teeth as he approaches you, his chest white hot with a swell of emotions he can't properly label. he doesn't bother to identify them though, for he simply just feels.

he looks for any hint of reciprocation. warmth in your cheeks or a glint in your eyes. however, he's too captivated by your smile to notice any signs that you might feel the same.

rubber arms wrap around you, holding you close and making you feel safer than anyone else on the planet. two years was enough. he wasn't letting you go again, not when he had no idea what was going on in that pretty head of yours. one day, he'd find out.

instead, he presses you into his chest. maybe he hopes you'll phase right through and into his heart.

"did ya miss me?"

taglist: @dimplewonie, @kingofthe-egirls (i hope you enjoy!! and thank you for the req 🫶)

[velvetydream]

꒰ : 🩹 [ Patches ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : After the fight he had with Antonius, you were there to patch him up.

Pairing : Telemachus x fem! Reader

Word count : 1.2K Words

Genre : Fluff

Warnings ➵ Telemachus is hurt

a/n : I love this guy sm and omg I can't wait to write more for this silly lil guy T T♡

Also I feel like this isn't m, best work sadly, I just didn't really know how to write this, that's also why it's shorter, but imma defi write a longer one for him again!

Artwork Credits : Gigi on YouTube

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

Athena turns around, sensing someone approaching the chambers of the prince, sitting on the railing in her owl form in an instant.

"My prince? I've been so worried! Your mother is so mad at the suitors! And by the gods look at you! What have those monsters done!" Rushing over to the young man, your hands find their way to his cheeks, holding his face softly in your hands. "I-I'm fine! Don't worry! Just some scratches!" He tried to assure you, looking over to Athena, who just gave him one last look before flying away, leaving him to your mercy. "My prince those aren't just scratches! The queen will be even more angry when she sees this!" Telemachus's face was littered with wounds, blood at the corner of his lips, scratches on his face, and a big one on his eyebrow. "Let me patch you up please, I don't want this to get infected." You softly grab his hand as you lead him to his vanity and sit him down, before gathering everything you need to clean his wounds.

Telemachus simply watches you with a rosy blush on his cheeks, would his mother see him right now she'd start preparing a wedding already. She was counting on you to become his fiance, having known you and your parents for years. You were born in the palace to your father, a warrior, he was away with the king for a long time now, probably dead, while your mother was the closest and most confidante maid she had. So you grew up in the palace, learning the ways to serve, and soon became the maid to the prince. He was barely two years older than you; in the last years, he had grown so much that he was now towering over you.

"This looks bad, my prince; how dare they hurt you like that.." You grumble as you wet cloth and softly clean the dried-up blood, holding his chin with your other hand carefully. Telemachus was watching you the whole time while doing so, admiring your scrunched up eyebrow and nose, concentrated eyes, and how your tongue slightly pokes out from the concentration.

"I'm fine don't w-worry! It's just a scratch!" He tries to assure you, but you just scoff at that; of course, he would say that. Wanting to argue back, you couldn't as a knock echoes through the room, straightening your back as the queen walks in. Bowing slightly you greet her respectfully, your own mother closed behind her. "M-Mother!" Her face was stern as she approached her son. "What happened?" Telemachus was obviously nervous to answer her, knowing very well she hates when he gets hurt, on top of the suitors being the cause of this. "They provoked me. I had to fight back!" Penelope looks at him, disappointed, shaking her head slightly. "You shouldn't have my son, look at your face; that will leave a nasty scar. What would your father say." Her hands were softly on his shoulders as her words enraged him. "He would be proud! Proud that I try to protect my house and mother!" Pulling back from her, he turns his back to her frustrated.

The queen lets out a sigh, looking over at you with thankful eyes for being with him right now and patching him up before she turns around and leaves, your mother also giving you one last look.

"My prince I need to finish cleaning your wounds." He's stood with his back to you, looking at the picture on his nightstand, an old picture; you weren't even born when this was made; he was merely an infant in the arms of his mother, the king, his father beside them. "He wouldn't want you to keep hurting. Let me finish, please." Softly, your hand lays on his arm as he shakes his head, frustrated.

Guiding him to sit down on his bed's edge now, you crouch down to sit in front of him on the floor after getting the utensils you need to clean the wounds. Grasping his hands softly to clean the knuckles that were bruised and bloodied from landing a few good punches on Antinous. "Why..? Why can't I be like my dad? He was amazing.. She would've never scolded him for fighting for her.." You noticed tears gathering in his beautiful eyes. "Oh dear, you're her only son; she is worried. You're just as great as your father, and someday you will see that too, my prince.." Tears fall from his eyes as your hand reaches up to carefully wipe the tears away.

You finish cleaning his knuckles before going to clean up everything you had used. Glancing over to Telemachus again to see his face in his hands, form crouched over and small. "Telemachus.. Don't beat yourself up so much.. Please.." Taking a seat beside him, you didn't treat him as your prince and weren't sitting down as his maid but as his childhood friend. You know you were crossing some lines; you were a servant, and you shouldn't stay longer in his chambers, let alone sit beside him on his bed. "You're an amazing person, remember that time we were kids? When I got bullied by some of the royal girls visiting? I wasn't able to defend myself because I am a mere servant; you stood up for me, telling them off, telling them how much more royal my personality was than their ugly ones." He slowly looks up at you, red and puffy eyes looking into your own. "So start thinking better of yourself alright?" Hand moving to rest on his damp cheeks, his face softly nuzzling against your hand, eyes closed.

"Thank you.." The words softly leave his mouth, before opening his eyes again to look at you. "Of course.. come here.." Opening your arms, he eased into your embrace, his own arms around your waist as his head came to rest on your shoulder. You know this was something he needed right now, a soft embrace to assure him everything was fine. "You're fine.." One hand is softly rubbing over his back, while the other one softly pats over his brown hair.

"I am.. Thanks to you." He leaves your embrace now with a smile. "I'll grow stronger for my family and you!" He has a grin on his lips now as he announces he will grow stronger. Looking over to his balcony now, you follow his gaze, gasping softly. "Woah.. An owl.. And such a pretty one at that too.." You smiled; the owl looked pretty, a light brown with a white spot, and the ends of her feathers looked like they shimmer gold in the sun. Telemachus, though, was shocked that Athena would show herself that easily and even speak to him in his head. 'I like that one, court her.' Before flying away, make you run onto the balcony to watch the owl fly away.

Telemachus quickly follows you as he watches Athena fly away, a bright red hue on his face from her words. "Oh my, you're so red! Do you have a fever?" Looking at him worried and before your hand could meet his forehead to check his temperature, he runs away laughing, yelling how his training should start now and he needs to get stronger, making you giggle and follow him, Argos quickly joining you two.

[astralnymphh]

𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑! ★

content: prodigy!abby x nerdy!reader, childhood friends, university-based, fluff (for now), romance + tension (little bit angsty), drabble length but switching up the small caps (experimenting. heh), mainly jotting an idea, not a certified abby expert.

It was an absolute murder to discover that she could not fufill this one off her bucket list.

Fucking video gaming?

Exactamundo! Abby can outstand everybody in nearly anything, being everything from a virtuoso violinist, to a glorified part-time fisherman, and a damn gourmet chef as well. She paraded around the entire campus pursuing a name in every elective and Olympic hobby you could ever think of. Name it, chances are she's done it. Actually, more than done it, all things considered.

But video games? Guess the esteemed Abby Anderson had finally tumbled downhill and suffered defeat; looking you up out of all computer-smart people felt treasonous to her, but seemed high-priority to the eye of the beholder, the eyes in question even rolling. You don't need an in-person class course on fucking Skyrim. Look at the tutorials!

“So, how the hell do I shorten my speedrun times?”

None of it made a lick of sense. Well, the wanting to do speedruns part, you see the appeal in a medieval-inspired game. Speedrunning sucks the fun and the atmosphere out of a truly gorgeous game such as the forenamed. Yet, it's not like you haven't experimented in closed-world speedruns after immersing yourself in collecting all the achievements; Firewatch takes the cake.

But, still, coming to you—a forgotten, childhood friend whom she ghosted—makes no logical sense. Games are easy-peasy. Literal pieces of cake!

You scrunch your nose at the reclined blondie on your bed, confused. “Um, by watching a tutorial?” Almost laying back into a condescending tone, maybe even a little. “Did you even think to do that before knocking in the dead of night?” Her mordant, stick-up-the-ass kind does the same thing to you, so, you can gripe at that game all you desire.

“Hey,” she pouts, sounding out mock-offense. She scoots up from her prone position on the bed to face you—so proper. “Everything has more to it than what you see.” Sure, philosopher. “And there definitely is with video games. I keep losing. Besides, if I can't stomach skydiving or rock-climbing, then this is next on my list.”

“Pft—”

“What? You know I don't do heights.”

Oh, my god. “'You keep losing?'” Is she a prodigy at radical honesty?

Pond-blue eyes toss in a perfect, resentful circle. She scoffs, “Why do you think I came over here?” Complaining right hand flicking with attitude.

“I don't teach beginners.”

Your sarcasm flies not even an inch under her radar; it was always a retreat tactic back in highschool—when this imitative facade first hardened. “Oh, okay.” She bites you back with it too. But it never even occured to her that you might just be serving a tablespoon of teasery. Being old friends, having lonesome yearns, even stubborn prodigies can be painted in a rosy picture.

Still can see those young, faded freckles. Lovely ones.

“This was a mistake, wasn't it?” An unpleasant question. Drops from her lips almost wantonly.

It strains your chest cavity.

Is seeing her a mistake?

Not really. You hope not really. Once, there was a time where she was suddenly rude, dismissive and up every aspiring valedictorian's ass, but all paths lead back, you believe. Somewhere underneath that porcelain facade—and hot, rocking bod—is a clean crack in her over-achiever matrix; softness is bleeding out. You can see the beginning brooks of it like a kingly ichor. Possible smiles that aren't contemptuous.

What next, an apology?

“Can I at least.. say sorry, before going?”

Sorry—going? Fuck, you majorly zoned out. “What?” You loom in closer, throwing the one-brow raise. The proximity barely even occurs to you.

“For being a jerk, for blowing you off, ..” The list implies endlessness as her voice fades out. In a way, you expect her to pick up and continue. But, after the gestures and head-tilts, she pauses. Reinstates eye contact, pauses, and works her lips again. An awkward, prefacing breath skims. “And I guess, 'm also sorry for.. this?”

Before comprehension hits, it is too late. Darkly, a warmth brushes your cheek and a silence catches your lips, blocking your eyes out. It makes you feel blindsided, this short-lived kiss, one you suspend wide eyes for, tilt your neck for, accept without question. A strange deja vu rushes to your nape.

You shiver.

It even ends before you understand it, Abby pulling away with light-glossed eyes you swear are stones of aquamarine in disguise. She cracks; dints a smile in her cheek. Proud, anticipating. Having her this close made your inhales excessive; you needed all the air in the world to function right now. Deep breathing.

She smells like the outdoors.

Naturally.

“Good?” She has to reassure herself.

“Yeah,” you quickly spout, croak even. Wherever in the world your head is, it's not here. “Not really a prodigy at kissing, so..” And while it is somewhere, the remnants of her kiss are phantom. They have not stopped yet.

An amused chuckle greets in gusts across your lips, from your radical honesty, the moment itself, whatever. Crowns you the jokester anyways. “Guess we both have something to learn then.”

Wonder what future that comment entails.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Leon is the most devoted young man you know, and what you always wanted, is to ruin ruin, turn him into a complete sinful mess. And finally, you got that.

PAIRING: Churchboy¡Leon x implied F!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.110k

WARNINGS: CORRUPTION KINK MAJOR! Religious themes!! Sub and whiny¡Leon. Handjob. Descriptions of male anatomy. On the church.

NOTES: After weeks, getting sick and everything, the part two is finally here! This work can be read alone, but there is a part one if you want to see. This was only possible due to the dear @navstuffs! She helped me a lot and she deserves all the thanks for this, thank you Nav!

At the beginning of the world, it was only good things. The literal Eden Garden at dispose, offering just the best of the fruits, the nature in contact with the skin, everything was pure. Until it wasn’t anymore. Leon always thought about how perfect the life could be before the sin, before the luxury of the human beings, in fact, his mind was driven into those thoughts, not fully understanding what could made Eve tempt and change the whole world to the way he know now, he did not understood how she could replace a life of trust, love and literal heaven, in trade with what? A miserable life forever. Maybe it was the idea of being forbidden that got her so allured. The rule was simple, not to eat the apple, and was that’s what got her so ecstatic, Eve could have everything around her, but that fruit was calling her, whispering her name in the most blissful winds ever created, the alluring idea of something being restricted by God himself, called her up on her mind. What could be so different about that fruit? Why was she so special that even God didn’t want to let them have contact with her?

Leon couldn’t understand the meaning behind that forbidden fruit, for him, it was just an easy task to follow his creator's order. Anyway, he didn’t want to face his choleric state, nor to lose all his privileges after creation as the first God miracle, the man. That is until, you appeared on his mind, occupying the only space being used to drive him withered.

Soon, the fruit was replaced, not just a simple apple anymore, but you. You, and that voluptuous body, cute giggle and face builded by an angel, he could appreciate you for hours, if this wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to be sinful. But just as Eve, your mischievous smile and alluring voice called for him, whispering his name in the depth of the world to keep him distracted from his initial objective, which was to serve his God, you were the luxury itself, right in front of him. There was no apple, just you, that deep into your mind, craved for Leon, and he, just wanted a bite of that pleasure, for being a sinful human as the others too, to see why humans fail so much, you were the perfect representation of a sin to him, the kind of woman that makes him fall on his knees and ask for his forgiveness, that wasn’t his normal state, it can’t be. Leon never saw himself so deprived, so perverted and sick like that.

From days now, you’ll be haunting his mind with unholy thoughts. Leon was in a dangerous line because of you, either ready to fall directly into a painful post life, with no way back, right into the hell for being such a pervert for you, or, resisting to the forbidden fruit and achieving a life of miracles to the end. Poor young man would wake up with a flustered rosy face, sweaty forehead, heavy breathing and surroundings still confused. He could swear you were in his dream, not in a good way at all. He would jump off of the bed, getting on his knees to the floor, hands gripping in each other to make it up for his sinful thoughts, mumbling his sorrows and asking for God help to “return him to his normal”, which never changed, he was always there, waiting patiently to give in and taste the sweet melody of the intimacy between such a thing as sex, but that was restricted due to the fear of a miserable hell. Leon felt filthy, the most dirty man walking on Earth, wearing an catholic third around his neck, gripping into it as his life depends of that, mumbling the God name as he could felt that weird sensation next to his crotch growing more and more painful, he didn’t knew what that is, but it hurt, it felt wrong. Plastered tears glued on his cheeks, he felt so false, so wrong and yet, so good.

“Oh my Jesus, forgive us for our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in the most need of your mercy. Amen.” The words felt so blank, so empty and for the first time, Leon felt like there was no salvation in his actions.

He’s sure that God is looking down at him, thinking that his child is lost, already too wrapped by the Devil’s hands. He would be laughing at him, seeing how pathetic he is, the image he once had for his religion is ruined. He is ruined. Slowly becoming the nasty sinner in his own eyes, there’s nothing that could save him anymore. With his mind slowly descending, he knew that you were the cause of this, you were his luxury, his apple and he was Eve in a kind of way, now, he understand her, he gets that feeling, that he want to have a taste of something forbidden, to know what life truly feels like.

Even though he’s becoming a sinner, his heavy footsteps were echoing through the hallways, the devil himself walking into the church to play pretend with his subordinates sinners, he had a head towards the ground, ashamed for his thoughts, not wanting to face the consequences for that. With another preaching coming closer, he was ready to watch it, with his conscience heavy and heartbeat unusual. But a half closed door got his attention, the before innocent eyes widened as he was more curious than ever before, peeking through the door, what Leon found got his knees weak.

He remembered when he was young, he looked deeply into the priest eyes and did an promise, “not to fall in temptation”, he knew all the words correctly, the way his eyes lit up in that powerful presence of God, how he felt protected from all the dangers of the world for a fraction of second. But the danger is not carrying a weapon, the danger it’s the damn weapon, disguised as a woman, you. Under the dim light of the room, your soft silk dress slowly falling from your shoulders, he could swear your skin glistened with the sun, like you’re shining. The texture of your skin must be the most perfect skin to touch in his mind, it seems so delicate and smooth, not to mention the sweet scent of your body, the natural scent is enough to drive into the most unhinged person ever. Leon was flabbergasted, his jaw open as he almost drooled over the sight, he knows he shouldn’t be watching you change to the preaching, nor even be desiring you like a dog in heat in search for an mate, a gasp escape from his throat, forcing him to put his hands on top of his mouth to shut him off. A faint sound could be heard by you, the creaky floor behind the half open door, plus, a very low gasp being muffled. With only your white bustier and suspender belt, your head turned towards the door, and you saw a dirty blond hair swung in the air, hiding behind it, and that made you bite your cheeks from inside, holding a giggle, you could recognize him anywhere, silly Leon.

Acknowledged of his presence, you decided to put on a show for him. Playing with the straps of your bustier, letting it loose on your shoulders to show him what he’s losing. At this point, you couldn’t imagine you caught him sneaking on you changing, something might've changed on that angel to turn him into that. The teasing only proved your point, you could hear the tender sound of his desperate voice he sounded like a puppy whining, incapable to hold the instincts of seeing something so attractive for the first time, hands squeezed together and eyes in awe as he let out faint heavy breaths.

—”Come here, Leon.” He felt dizzy immediately. You saw him, you caught him red handed while spying you.

Looking like an abandoned dog, eyes on the floor, hands behind his back and short footsteps, he got inside, closing the door with your instruction. He couldn’t look at you, how could he look at you while you wear something so profane as this outfit you’re wearing right now? But he was already looking anyway, this wouldn’t make any difference, he just likes to pretend he was not doing something so wrong like that. Not the innocent Leon, he couldn’t commit his first sin with you, no way.

—”You know that spying is not a good thing, right?” Your feet on the ground made a stomp sound, indicating you were getting closer to him.

With his eyes hidden by his bangs, this was a bad situation that he chose to be into. He bit his lower lip, a wave of guilt all over his body and made him feel even more weaker. Leon nodded with his head, not even able to whisper a single word for you, just to show how embarrassed he is. The embarrassment was not only because he got caught, but of what his image will turn after this, what you will do to him. Your hot aura was invading his space and making him nervous, so much that he trembled like a leaf.

—”I asked you a question.” Your tone got a bit more stern, and you heard Leon suck a sob in between his little crooked teeths. You loved how he was not perfect at all, he was not going to stay forever innocent, you knew that, but you wanted to be the reason behind that. Leon is a grown man, he can make decisions for himself and answer a simple question.

—”Y-Yes! I…I know.”

Pressing him against the closet cabinet, he let out a gasp escape again. Your hands were behind him, dangerously close to touching his body in a way never before. Leon eyes dragged to yours, locking to see that flame in your pupils that he feared to face for so long.

—”You look so desperate, like you never saw a body before.”

—”I-I…never…” The words slipped out from his tongue, he didn’t have any control on his actions nor words at the moment, he was only listening to you and watching you. Your ferocious desire was filling his senses too, tormenting his poor mind. You only chuckled from his words gently, but he felt offended.

He must look so pathetic close to you, you must have plenty of experience and he…he had never seen his own body before, for him, it was wrong to see his own body, he believed that this would make him some kind of sinner. But seeing you, so alluring and bashing your eyelashes so innocently like a doll.

—”Haven't you ever seen a naked body before?”

The silence was his answer, he looked away bashfully, scared to admit the truth. Scared to look silly in front of you, to make a fool of himself. The look on his face said everything, and by the way he’s fidgeting his fingers anxiously, you didn’t need a proper answer. You understood, pressing your almost bare body against his just to hear him gulp audible, the thing was, you could feel a pent up dick hitting your inner thigh, he was so hard from just seeing your body this way, you wonder how he could be so sensitive this way. Just getting closer, made his whole face flushed.

—”You’re so hard already, Leon.” You snickered, looking down to watch his cock stir on his pants, underneath your skin. His eyes were wide open, he looked down with you, confused, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

—”Hard? Is this what is hurting me?”

—”Hurting you? I’m guessing you never touched your body before to not know this is a boner.” Leon bit his lips again, this time humming in desperation and his hands were supported on the cabinet behind him.

—”Explain to me, please.”

You were surprised. He never really touched himself before? That would be even better than you thought. With a tender sigh, your hands hovered over his chest, slowlying pestering all the way down to his hips.

—”It’s hard to explain, but I can help you to get rid of the…pain, as you say.”

His eyes lit up, Leon whimpered at the touch of your hands on him, the first touch like this on his, the very first one, is yours. Just like you did in his dreams, but you were like a devil cornering him, wrapping him in your claws. At the feel of his cock twitching in his pants, he needed to get rid of that sensation, it was weird, so he nodded at your offer, agreeing to being ruined forever.

The next thing Leon knew, is that he was embraced by you fully this time. His rear resting on the low closet cabinet, his hands were roaming over your tender shoulders, searching for any support not to fall on his knees in front of you. Leon was ruined, there was no turning back from now on, not when his throat let the most obscene sounds your ears could be graced with, whiny soft pants making him look pathetic and adorable at the same time, the mix of feelings messing up with his mind and turning him into this. The way your hands were exploring his body so indecently for the first time is awkward, and yet, brings him to the edge of a just discovered emotion.

Your hands felt all over his body, exploring every inch as that was your last chance to show him the sin you could be. In fact, that could be a one lifetime opportunity, and you needed to get him addicted to make sure he would crawl back to you, begging for more of that thing only you can bring him to. With the way you looked, your eyes felt sore, like you just saw a golden flash in them so abruptly, that was, seeing Leon's dick for the first time. It was…cute, but desirable, that's for sure. The reddened tip looked untouched as the rest of his body, he was not thick, but he was considerably lengthy, you felt the urge to kiss it, tuck him inside your mouth, push him to the back of your throat and send him to heaven early as he wanted, but not in a glorious way. Leon couldn't even look into your face anymore, everything was blurry, but every single touch got him shivering, anyway, he agreed to that, and regret is not a word that could describe how he was right now. Deciding to have some pity on the man and take things slow to be just a bit passionate once, your hands pestered all the way down to finally touch his cock, watching as it stirred into your hands so adorably.

Leon's whimpers were everything you could ask for, he hid his face on the crook of your neck, nibbling your skin ever so gracefully to try to shut him, but he was loud, VERY loud. It was his first time being touched, you couldn't blame him. You started to touch his length, going up and down as you felt his hips jerking forward into you, showing that he wanted (needed) more. Turning your hands into a cupping one, you started to masturbate him at your own pace, taking his time as you heard his reactions, if you got quicker, he could get so much louder than before.

—”You don't want the whole church to hear us now, do you?” Your voice didn't need to get loud for him to listen, the distance was enough for a whisper in his ear that made him moan.

He knew it was wrong, and that anyone could hear him moaning like a bitch in heat for you, but he couldn't care less now. He had lost his innocence and faith, there's nothing else to lose. And yet, he kept his tone loud, he couldn't lower them in any way, everything felt so overstimulating that he felt like he was going to explode at any time.

Leon was trembling in your arms, you could see how he was holding onto you, crying, mumbling something incoherent as the same time your shoulders felt wet. A mixture of tears and saliva that escaped from his inside cheeks. You kept teasing him, some times, pressing his tip until you heard him whining and his trimmed nails pressed against you, marking you so slightly it wouldn't last long. His legs were wide open for you, and yet, he was almost closing them, if it wasn't for your body in the middle of them, the proximity allowed your breath to hit on his face, and you, to see his godly constructed face contorted in pleasure for you, everything you asked for.

Since he was a beginner at this kind of situation, he wouldn't last long, you knew that. Just a few pumps were enough to drive him crazy. As soon as his arms involved your back, his teeths into your shoulders and his moans got even more whiny (which you didn't think was possible), you knew he was close to cummming. Leon's hands tapped your back, he was mumbling and mumbling something non stop, and it took you a few seconds to understand

—”W-What….what is this?! I feel like…I'm…going to burst! Please!” His pleas were adorable, he didn't know what was coming, but he was begging for it.

—”It's completely normal, Leon…”

You soothed him, a gentle moment that kept you moving around his overwhelmed dick until he was fumbling and hyperventilating, he was a mess of heavy breaths, whimpers, grunts and every sound possible he could muster at the moment.

It didn't take long to see Leon's soul escaping from his body. His eyes were as wide as possible, the blue orb in the middle almost submerged on that white ocean of his eyes. Leon gripped into you, his legs failing for the first time, his toes curling up together and his head thrown back as he moaned in a strangle of breath. That's until the long ropes of cum made contact with your hands, escaping to drip on the cabinet wood underneath him. Took him long enough to stop seeing stars, his eyes drizzled off to somewhere distant until he could finally look into yours, to see your big grin and blush like a silly.

—”I…is it wrong to…ask for more?”

[alastors-antlers]

Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

[madamecalypso]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader, where Alastor is Reader's secret crush, and Reader is oblivious to Alastor's advances. Reader befriends and ends up accidentally kissing someone else which leads to lots of misunderstandings, a jealous Alastor, and a tense relationship between Reader and their other friend. Eventually, Alastor confronts the other person and they have a fight which is broken up by Reader, who is furious with them both and refuses to talk to Alastor for the next week. Alastor is distraught.?

Hi @cartoonykat, thanks for the request. I really liked the prompt so I wrote this before sleeping. I hope I brought this prompt justice. I even have the perfect song for this as an inspiration.

I hope you enjoy it!!

To fall in love

Alastor was never known to be affectionate. Yet with your arrival that seems to have changed. At first he only planned to mess with you, a sinner oblivious to the dealings of hell brought by Charlie after seeing you amidst the chaos outside of Pentagram city.

At first, he thought that your innocence was just irritating, he never saw another sinner who matches Charlie's outlook and bubbly personality. When he first saw you, he immediately thought that you are a lamb for slaughter.

Yet it immediately changed one morning when he went down and saw you in the kitchen. Busy preparing breakfast for everyone who is still slumbering.

Your hair was tied in a messy bun while wearing his apron, pulling out freshly cooked croissants from the oven. He also noticed the brewed coffee in the French Press. Your eyes shined brightly, clearly enjoying preparing everything as a thanks for accepting you in the hotel.

As he vanished from the shadows he deemed that you piqued his interest. You may actually be a form of entertainment he did not anticipate.

As weeks passed you have befriended everyone in the hotel including Alastor. You were still wary of the Radio Demon after the warnings of Vaggie but it seems like the Overlord was actually the most friendly of all.

Whenever you are tasked with going outside, he immediately volunteers to accompany you. At first, you were afraid to be near him yet he's quite the gentleman whenever you're together. And with him, you are often not bothered by other sinners which you are grateful for. Unaware of the killer looks Alastor gives to anyone who tries to approach you unaware that he was doing it.

He is also attentive to you, often being near you and listening to your stories. Serving you first whenever he cooks which you do in return whenever you are tasked to cook or to prepare breakfast for everyone. It seems that wherever you are, Alastor is always nearby to help if needed.

Charlie and the inhabitants of the hotel seem to get the hint of the Overlord's interest in you, for what motives they don't know yet but you seem to be quite oblivious about it.

You on the other hand started to form a crush with him. Well who wouldn't as he became a dear friend to you as months passed. When you realized these feelings you were quite horrified as you knew that this might ruin your friendship if he knew.

Alastor on the other hand was satisfied with how your friendship progressed, as you really did provide a better entertainment than anyone could. His dear friend Rosie made him realize his affection for you one afternoon during his visit to her emporium which confused him a lot.

"You like the gal my dear, when are you gonna admit it to yourself? You are not the type to talk about one topic especially a specific sinner whenever we see each other"

"I'm not really into love that you flaunt in some glittery font so I don't know what you mean dear Rosie"

"Denying it makes it more true Alastor"

After his conversation with her. He knew he needed to think of a plan to admit this to you, it seems like he really is deeply enamored with you and Rosie was apparently right. But for now he would just continue leaving subtle hints.

----

During one of Charlie's trust exercises, everyone was partnered up and tasked to share 2 truths and a lie with the other. Alastor as usual was observing everyone and decided to not participate. You were partnered with Angel Dust who excitedly grabbed your hands with a plan on his mind.

After all he plans to be the wing man for you and smiles. You after all confided in him your crush with the Radio Demon one drunken night. And he knows the best way to push both of you in the right direction is through jealousy. Just to see if smiles were truly interested in you.

"So sugar doll you start first!" Angels enthusiastically spoke as you both sat at the still of the bar.

You nervously smile before speaking. "Well, I haven't been kissed in a while, a building almost fell down on me when I first arrived in hell and I hate the color red"

Almost immediately after you speak, Angel leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. Your eyes widened and you immediately blushed.

"There!, now you told me 2 lies and 1 truth Snookums" Angel replied seductively.

Before you could berate the spider demon for thinking that it was a great gag, a loud record scratch followed by static was heard and almost immediately Angel vanished in front of you and was thrown against the wall by a black tentacle.

Chaos ensues as everyone tries to stop Alastor from eviscerating Angel. You on the other hand were shocked, finally seeing Alastor's brutality first hand. You didn't think that he was capable of such things. I guess this is why they warned you to still clear from him.

You snap from your shock as you see Alastor's larger form towering in front of Angel who was disoriented from the force after being thrown. You immediately run towards them and shield Angel from him.

"Alastor! Stop!" You shouted, eyes wide as you saw how he looked. He turned to look at you, eyes black with his pupils turned into the shape of radio dials. Immediately he transformed back and tried to explain to you. As he reached to touch your hand, you slapped it away and helped Angel up.

"Mon chéri, I.." Alastor tried to speak but you cut him off in anger.

"I'm disappointed in both of you! Angel I don't know why you thought it would be fun to kiss me but you should have warned me!" You looked at both of them in anger, eyes tearing up from the frustration of what just occurred.

"And Al!, I know you are protective of me and I like you for that but you shouldn't have hurt Angel! He was just teasing even if he didn't warn me beforehand. You know how he acts sometimes"

You crossed your arms in anger as everyone looked at you in shock. They never saw you this mad.

"If you both don't fix and make up, I'm not talking to both of you anymore!" As you finished speaking you ran upstairs, leaving everyone still shocked.

---

It's now two weeks ago since that happened and you avoided Alastor as much as you could. You are still confused why Alastor acted that way.

Angel already asked forgiveness days prior for kissing you without your consent, explaining that he just wanted to test a theory which confused you more. But when you ask what it's about he only winked before walking away.

Alastor on the other hand retreated to his Radio tower and was not seen by everyone ever since. To say that you didn't miss Alastor's presence was an understatement.

Knowing this, you finally took the courage to speak with him and clear everything.

You gently knocked before entering. Immediately you noticed the disarray in the room before landing your eyes on his form sitting on a couch.

'What are you doing here mon chéri?" He gently spoke, his radio filter not present.

"I wanted to talk, I think it's about time we talk regarding what happened that time and it seems like you are also avoiding me" You gently walked closer before sitting beside him.

"It was a strategic retreat. And what is there to talk about? It's over, I ruined it" He muttered, avoiding your gaze.

"Not really, you didn't unless you're not sorry"

"Well, yeah, of course I'm sorry, but..." He immediately rebutted but you cut him of as you said you forgive him.

"No, no, don't forgive me!, why do you do that? You are always so forgiving! Why, why give me another chance to mess things up?"

"Because I love you" You confidently confessed.

Hearing this, Alastor immediately looked at you and stood up. "Because you, what?"

"I love you" You said louder this time.

"Those three little words out of the blue are completely uncalled-for especially from you mon chéri" He started to pace back and forth, his ears twitching as he does.

"I know you don't feel the same way and I accept that" You whispered as you stood up but Alastor immediately stopped you by grabbing your face and kissing you.

"Did you know that I wanted to tear Angel apart as it should only be my lips to touch yours"

Your eyes widened after hearing his confession. "So all this time you.."

"Yes Mon chéri, I love you too. I should have been more upfront in expressing my affections" Your smiles widen. "I guess that's the theory Angel wanted to test then" Your statement caused a realization to dawn on Alastor's face, he really should speak with the effeminate spider soon, possibly to say sorry and thank him.

"Are you sure you don't want to give up on me?" He asked and you nod enthusiastically which made him laugh happily. "You're a moron chéri for such a decision, don't ever change"

"I won't"

[theamberfist]

Leave it all on the Dance Floor! | Alastor x Overlord! Reader

Platonic! Alastor + Best Friend! Reader who's also an overlord.

Description: After seven years, Alastor pays a visit to the territory of his best friend, an overlord with the power to make people dance.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cannibalism) (Part 1 of 5)

"More wine?" A voice beside you asked gently and you turned your head to see your trusted assistant, Joan, standing there with a tray of wine glasses in her hand. Your expression softened at the sight of her but you shook your head.

"No, thanks." You replied with a sigh. You must have been zoning out before because now that she'd gotten your attention, the music playing nearby didn't seem nearly loud enough and you reached over to the speaker on your right to turn up the dial. Joan, a demon that highly resembled a black cat, frowned.

"Not enjoying tonight's party?" She asked with slight disappointment evident in her voice. After all, the two of you had always worked so hard to put on events like this for those living in your Swing Sector. It helped keep their spirits and, therefore, loyalties high despite the fact that their souls were owned by another; or at least, that was the reason you'd always given. In truth, the feline knew there was probably no need to go to such lengths. After all, you were one of the most beloved overlords in the entirety of the pentagram, and most of these sinners had handed their souls over to you willingly.

"I'm just a little tired from the rest of this week." You replied finally before glancing at your demon assistant again with some hope in your eyes. "Any word on my 'special' guests?" Maybe if one of them showed up, you'd find it within yourself to enjoy tonight like Joan wanted you to.

Your hope died a second later, though, when she shook her head. "Zestial and Carmine both politely declined but sent their regards," she explained, "Our other guest gave no response, and it seems Rosie will not be able to attend this evening."

Damnit. There went that plan. You always invited your overlord friends to attend these parties, and usually, three out of four of their answers were always the same. Zestial and Carmilla didn't consider dancing to be their scene, and he hadn't been seen in years, so despite sending word of every gathering, you'd stopped expecting to hear anything back.

But Rosie usually did her best to attend whenever you invited her. She always said how she just loved the chance to spend time with you and you both had gotten more than accustomed to dancing together. She was rather talented at it too, and you'd lost count of how many times you'd won dance contests at these events. She wouldn't have missed one of these if it wasn't totally necessary, so you suspected something important must have come up.

"Susan again?" You asked Joan with a sigh, earning a solemn nod from the catlike demon.

"I'm sure her actions had something to do with Rosie's absence tonight, yes." She told you as politely as possible, not wanting to insult any of your friend's people in front of you, even when she knew how much you hated that one in particular.

"If I see Susan again I'll have to make her regret keeping my friend away from another of our parties," you decided as you took a glass of wine from Joan's tray now, "This is the third month in a row." Joan nodded before slipping away to continue serving wine to the other party attendees and you sighed as you continued sipping wine from your place above the dance floor.

Out in front of you, nearly everyone from the Swing Sector was enjoying their evening. From drinking to dancing to chatting, it was all just how you liked it; the only problem was that in recent years, you'd begun to lose some of your enthusiasm when it came to parties like these.

You knew it had started back when your best friend went away years ago, as ever since, you'd only been losing more and more enjoyment when it came to your daily activities. The worst part was that you didn't even know when- or if- he would be coming back.

Still, as you finished off your glass of wine, you knew you needed to at least try to keep up appearances, despite what you were feeling on the inside. And that, of course, meant going around and mingling with your guests. You set the now-empty glass on a table near where you'd been sitting and then headed off towards the dance floor now, where crowds of people were gathered around.

A small sense of pride filled you at the sight of what they were wearing. Even without having been told to do so, everyone had come donning something originally made by you; the greatest designer in hell (though certain overlords would disagree with that title). Whether the clothes were from your lines years ago or the one that had just come out last month, they all wore outfits personally created by their own stylish overlord.

So at least, if nothing else, you had a well dressed group of people at your disposal.

"There they are!" People exclaimed now that you were up and mingling around, and the crowd quickly parted to allow you to pass them by. There were gasps and aww's as people called your name or waved in your direction. You just smiled back and tried to sport the high amount of power you possessed in the way you moved.

Truthfully, you had been doing the whole overlord thing for a while. You died back in the 1940's when swing dancing had been highly popular, and upon arriving in hell, had quickly swept the pentagram with your combined strength and charisma.

You supposed that was why it had now become your trademark, in addition to fashion. Of all the different types of dance that were out there, swing had always been your favorite, and you were extremely talented at it. As a result, everyone who came under your control would be as well.

"Lovely to see you," you grinned at various party guests, "Glad you could be here!" The first time you'd hosted one of these, you'd required the attendance of everyone in the Poise Sector. By now there was no such thing, and yet the entire sector always turned out for them.

You chatted lightly with some of the people you recognized best and introduced yourself once again to those you didn't; knowing there would be a few new souls at your disposal by the end of the night.

As you turned to the dance floor, though, the sight of it slightly disappointed you. There were people out there, of course; there always were when it came to your sector. But there were so few of them that the space held none of that fun, beautiful energy you'd come to love so much. As much as you didn't feel like dancing tonight, you knew something had to be done about this, and so you headed up to the slightly-raised stage at the end of the dance floor with a sigh.

"Excuse me!" You called to get everyone's attention once you were standing atop it. Instantly, the chatter died down and they all snapped their gazes in your direction. With a grin you placed your hands on your hips like a disappointed mother. "I thought I was clear this was a dancing kind of party!" You exclaimed, "So I'd better see some more bodies on that dance floor; dead or alive!"

Immediately, the space began to fill up as couples made their way onto the dance floor. You smiled at the sight and then stepped down from the stage. That was more like it.

You hated to see a dance floor without lively people on it, which was how you'd found out about your powers in hell in the first place. Upon getting to your first party and seeing no one else dancing, you'd immediately turned up the music and started doing so yourself, only to find that everyone else who heard it seemed to be swept up into your movements as well a moment later. And when you stopped, they'd done the same, as if somehow attached to you and your will. It hadn't taken long for you to realize you were the one making them sway and bop to the music, and of course, you'd been enjoying that ability ever since.

You'd even met your best friend that way; accidentally running into him at one of your nightly outings. At first, he'd been offended by your attempts at forcing him to dance alongside you, but after realizing how much appreciation you had for good music and dance society, the two of you had hit it off pretty quick. Plus, it hadn't hurt that you'd both been from similar time periods.

"Care to dance?" A voice spoke behind you now and you turned to see Joan standing there with her hand extended towards you. Once you recovered from the surprise, your smile widened even more.

"I'd be delighted, darling." You replied as you took her hand and let her lead you onto the dance floor. Things had gotten much livelier now; just the way you liked it.

You weren't even using your powers at the moment; after all, you generally didn't have to in order to get the people of the Swing Sector to do what you wanted. They knew what would happen if they disobeyed, and they respected you too much to do so in the first place.

Joan and your presence only brought the energy up higher; if that was possible. The sight of you dancing near them made people step up their game and if you continued letting things escalate, you knew you would soon have an impromptu dance contest on your hands. That was how it usually went at these parties, anyway, and back in the day, you and your old friend had won many of the little contests together.

But you forced yourself to push him out of your thoughts as you danced with Joan now. You couldn't keep dwelling on that loss; no matter how much it may have hurt you for him to disappear so suddenly and without warning.

Joan seemed to understand where your head was because she threw herself into the moves; twirling and dipping you like her life depended on it. Having danced with the cat demon plenty of times before, you easily kept up with her and even threw in a few of your own accent moves.

The two of you probably danced through about five songs together before you finally paused, letting you both catch your breath in the middle of the dance floor. Joan had a huge smile on her face though, and it proved to be contagious as your own widened through your heavy breathing. After a moment you regained your composure, though the feline was still tired from your first few dances.

You were about to suggest she take a break before continuing when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. You raised an eyebrow, knowing none of the people in your sector were brave enough to touch you out of nowhere like that; even if you beloved, you were still an overlord.

Whoever it was must have given Joan a look because her eyes widened and she immediately nodded, stepping away from you and through the dance floor.

Ah, so whoever this was had decided to cut in.

You couldn't help feeling a little irritated at that knowledge. After all, you'd already been having a tough night and now as soon as you and Joan had started enjoying yourselves, it had been interrupted. You even considered telling this person off for it.

That was, until you looked up to see their face. If you'd been breathing heavily before, your breath had all but stopped now in realization.

Yellow teeth curved into a huge smile, red eyes, and a pair of small, all-too-familiar antlers sat atop his head. In that moment, you could have cried.

"...Al?" You breathed, seeing his smile widen.

"Pleasure to see you again my dear! It's been quite a while now, hasn't it?" He replied with a carefree tone. Even his voice, with that damned radio filter, sounded just like you remembered.

"Alastor!" You exclaimed so loudly that you were sure even Rosie over in Cannibal Town could hear you. Not waiting another moment, you pulled him into a hug so tight that it could have crushed a someone's bones, had the person in your embrace not been the Radio Demon himself. "It's you!" You couldn't hold back your joy and his smile widened even further, if that was possible, as he hugged you back.

"In the flesh, darling!" By now, the rest of the Swing Sector had gone back to dancing as if nothing had happened. Of course, they were as shocked as you to see Alastor back after seven years, but they knew better than to voice that surprise in the middle of your reunion. There would no doubt be gossip about the circumstances of his arrival and visit later, though.

"Where have you been?!" You demanded once you pulled away from his embrace. Of course, you knew him well enough to know he likely wouldn't give the answer to you straight; he liked hearing theories and speculations way too much for that.

"Oh you know, here and there!" Alastor replied vaguely before glancing around at the other sinners on the dance floor. He kept a smile on his face but glared at the ones currently looking your way, making them immediately turn back to minding their own business. "Now, care to have this dance with me, my dear?"

"Of course." You replied with a grin as you took the other demon's hand, glancing at the various dancing pairs around you. "In fact, I think you may have returned just in time for a dance contest." 

You could already see the competitive sparkle that grew in Alastor's eyes, having won many such competitions with you in the past. As much as you wanted to know where he'd been all this time, you supposed that would have to wait until after the two of you had defended your titles as the reigning swing dancing champions of the Swing Sector. 

"Then we'd better show these sinners how it's done!" The Radio Demon exclaimed with all the enthusiasm you'd come to expect from him. 

As you two danced, you could feel the party's mood begin to liven up. You couldn't get a smile off your face anymore than your best friend could, it seemed, and it had begun to spread to the souls under your control as they stepped up their own dancing game. 

"Now tell me, how have you been since I saw you last?" Alastor asked before twirling you around, "And don't leave out a detail, dear!" You chuckled, knowing there was so much to catch him up on. 

"I've managed," you replied sarcastically, "I have more souls under my command than the last time we met and Swing Sector has been coming along nicely. We even finally put in that diner Rosie and I have been talking about for years!"

"Wonderful!" Alastor exclaimed before glaring at a dancing couple that had gotten a little too close to encroaching on your shared space, "How glad I am to hear that worked out for you!"

"Me too," you admitted, "Some of her people staff the place, along with my own. That way, we have a wide variety of menu items. I bet you'd enjoy the food there!" At this, the deer-like demon nearly smirked. 

"Oh, I'm sure I would," he told you as the song you'd been dancing to ended and a new one began, "Speaking of Rosie, how has she been these past years?" 

"She's a lovely as ever," you said with a smile, "She usually attends over monthly parties but hasn't been able the last couple of times due to...circumstances." At that, Alastor's ears fell back as if he already knew whom it was you were referring to.

"I see..." He replied before regaining his composure and widening his smile again, "Well, I suppose now that I've returned the three of us will have to find a time to catch up again!" 

"Definitely!" You replied with a nod, "And then you can explain to the both of us why you've been gone all this time. I tell ya, we were starting to worry you'd gone and died!" You sent him a playful glare, "But of course I know the great Radio Demon couldn't be taken out so easily. Speaking of, have you let Rosie know you're back in town yet?" 

There was a brief pause in the conversation as he spun you again before you came back to face him. "Al...?" You questioned sternly. The deer demon, still smiling as brightly as ever, simply shrugged innocently (or as innocently as someone like him could). "Al!" You exclaimed now. You would have given his arm a light smack if you hadn't been in the middle of a dance. "I can't believe you just appeared after seven years and you haven't even thought to tell her you're back in town!" 

"I plan to inform her shortly," Alastor replied dismissively, "But make no mistake, darling, I've only returned today, and you're the very first person I came to!" That made your expression soften a bit. 

"Really?" You asked, only for him to nod in response. 

"Of course!" Before Alastor could go on, the song picked up and you knew it would be drawing to a close soon. He seemed to realize it too because he turned to you and you nodded in confirmation. From there, you both picked up the pace and gave it your all; showing off for all the new-in-town sinners who thought they had even a sliver of a chance at winning this competition. 

Leading the steps, Alastor seemed to have disregarded everyone else's places on the dance floor now as you two moved across it. Finally, the song started to come to a close and he timed one final spin perfectly so that he'd dipped you dramatically as it ended. 

There, you paused for a brief second before the entire dance floor erupted into applause. Smiling, you stood up straight and brushed yourself off, knowing you and the Radio Demon had once again won this competition. 

"Still got it, I see." You smiled towards the deer demon as the two of you took your bows. 

"Of course!" Alastor replied cheerfully, letting go of your hand now to adjust his coat. "How could I call myself your friend if I'd let my dancing skills diminish over the years?" You rolled your eyes but a smile was still evident on your face as you pulled him into a hug again. 

"I'm really glad you're back, Alastor." You said seriously now, taking note of how all the people around you suddenly seemed to find the ground and sky much more interesting than your display. Good; they knew better than to be nosey about their overlord's dealings and relationships. 

"As am I." Alastor replied before finally pulling back to look you in the eyes, "I must say, I've missed you a great deal all this time!" You chuckled now before turning to see Joan signaling to you that it was getting late and that she would be in your boutique nearby if you needed anything. With how much time you always spent in the place, it had become your home by now, and the whole second floor had been converted to a living area. Joan, being your closest supporter, always made sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed before leaving you for the night. 

"Come on," you told Alastor now, nodding towards the boutique. "We can have tea, and then maybe I'll consider designing you some new clothes. It's been seven years after all; don't you think it's time for a little update?" 

"I trust your judgement," Alastor replied as his smile widened. You headed for the boutique and he followed after you, taking in the sense of familiarity the place brought him. 

He'd been worried about your reaction to his sudden return, but as expected, you'd taken it as well as ever. Alastor knew he was more than lucky to have a best friend as understanding as yourself, even if he wasn't going to be getting out of telling you the truth eventually. But until then, he was glad just to be able to spend time with you and catch up.

It really was good to be back. 

..........

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 8)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 8 (6.6k) | The Night You Left |

Joel barely sleeps, tossing and turning in his bed with his clothes on, knuckles bloody and burning, throat raw from screaming. He wakes up to hushed whispers outside his door and he throws it open, inexplicably hoping to see you out there. Instead he sees a sea of terrified faces, Sasha tucking Beth behind her, Tess peering out from the bathroom with Rosie holding a cold cloth over her swollen face. Kerri is further down the hall, sweeping up chunks of drywall and dust on the floor from the holes he’d punched into the wall hours earlier. 

He looks back towards Tess. Fuck. She looks awful, already two swollen black eyes and a split lip. What kind of a monster does that to someone? 

“Tess, I–”

“I’ll be alright Joel,” she reassures. “Why don’t you head over to the baths and get cleaned up?”

She knows he can’t be seen in the state he’s in. What would people think? They’d think he’d fuckin’ lost it is what they’d think. And they’d be right.

Joel heads to the old plaza, a ten minute walk down the street and around the corner, to the old salon now serving as the town bath house. This early in the morning he knows no one is going to be here so he lets himself in through the back door. He checks the tank of the town’s only working hot water heater and begins to fill one of the stock tank tubs, shucking his clothes off and climbing in. The water stings his raw knuckles as he scrubs at his body, washing away bits of dusty drywall and blood – his or Tess’, he can’t tell.

Fuck, he fucked up. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. He shouldn’t have done that to Tess. This is what you fucking do to him, this is the effect you have on him. You bring out the worst in him. All you ever did was distract him, tempt him, tease him, and reject him. He saved your life, fed you, clothed you, protected you, and put a roof over your head. And how did you repay him?

Resentment. Neglect. Defiance. Abandonment.

What did he even see in you? He thought you were brave, but you were so soft on the inside. He thought you were smart, but he watched you act like such a fucking fool. He thought you were beautiful, but you wouldn’t even let him say it. He thought you were wild, but he tamed you so easily. He was wrong about you. He tells himself that he’s glad you’re gone and that he’s better off without you around anyway.

—

The first Thursday without you, Joel takes Beth to the meeting, despite complaining that he’d rather go alone. Beth had already gotten to work making clothes and this would be a good opportunity for her to give some out to the families that lived further out of town, at least that’s what Tess had said. He’d never admit it, but he held his breath when a group of people led by the tall and imposing Hank walked in the room, someone else trailing just behind. Several people shifted and Joel saw it was just Hank’s little girl, blushing bright red when she caught him looking at her. 

Shit. He’s not sure why he let himself think it might be you. Hank hadn’t brought you to the church meeting on Sunday so why did he let that tightness grow in his stomach thinking he’d bring you to the Thursday meetings the way he used to bring Beth? Whatever. He doesn’t even want to see you. He continues to be in a foul mood all week and despite pleading with Tess for forgiveness – which she gives him – all the women in the house seem to avoid him.

The second Thursday he notices Hank’s young daughter, who’d introduced herself several times as Amber, following his every move, watching him, sitting next to him, hanging on his every word with rapt attention. The little girl must have a crush. How inconvenient. But wait, he might be able to use this to his advantage. He’d noticed you ducking behind Hank’s oversized frame at church the past Sunday, avoiding him like the plague, and decided he was going to give you a taste of your own medicine. 

Fuck you, you little ingrate, he’s gonna ignore the shit out of you right back.

He purposely avoided looking in your direction during his speech and sat with his back to you during dinner. He made sure to act like the perfect leader, loving and gentle, graciously accepting people’s well wishes for Tess’ illness – the cover-up for why she’d been in the house for over a week while her face healed up. Within earshot of you he gives attention to every other female Valley member, even going so far as to bring people into his embrace, hugging them tight. 

He’s like an oily politician – kissing babies and shaking hands – but he hopes you see it all. He hopes you feel sick over it, feel jealous, feel regret. He hopes you feel the loneliness rotting in your gut like he does. But how will he know? How will he know if he can’t see you, can’t talk to you? He needs access to you, someone for you to confide in, someone on the inside. Little Amber will do nicely. 

He strikes up a conversation with her, bumping up the charm to an eleven. He opens with some mildly flirtatious banter, asks some questions about her – women love that shit – before getting to the point.

“Hear you got a new roommate over there,” he postures casually.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Amber beams.

“She is?”

“Oh– ummm,” her brow furrows. “Isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles, “You tell me.”

“She’s alright, yeah… I mean, she– she’s fine.”

“Well you should let me know if she does anything to bother you.” His voice is smooth and buttery.

“I should?”

“Well yeah,” Joel touches his hand briefly to her chin, “I gotta make sure you’re happy, don’t I?” 

“Oh,” she giggles, face flushing immediately.

“So make sure you tell me what’s goin’ on, okay?”

“Yeah I will,” she tries to suppress her smile. “I– I definitely will.”

“Anything at all, even if you think it might not be important.” He makes sure she’s looking at him and drops his voice an octave. “Anything at all, okay, sweetheart?” He winks to seal the deal.

It was almost too easy, turning little Amber into his own private mole. Every Thursday he gave her a couple minutes of attention and she folded, playing right into his hand and spilling everything you two had talked about over the past week. She told him where you went, what you did, who you talked to, and even what anyone else in the house said about you. Apparently Hank’s wife was missing Beth and Joel briefly thinks of telling Tess to make a switch back, but then gets angry at you again and changes his mind.

You don’t deserve his forgiveness, you’re not missing him enough, not even close to being as miserable as you could be. Amber had told him that you’d cried yourself to sleep almost every night the first week but then the other day after the church meeting he’d watched you hunch down behind little Amber – barely five feet tall – trying to hide from him. Your stubborn pride is gonna make it even more satisfying when you come crawling back to him, begging him to let you come back home.

Amber tells him when you’ve stopped crying at night but says you still spend a lot of time on your own, wandering the edges of the property. She catches you up in the hayloft all the time, or napping with the baby goats. She says you don’t spend any time with Danny or Diego, the ranch hands, so he resists his urges to take them by the collar and threaten to bury them alive if they so much as look at you.

—

Joel woke up in the mornings feeling empty, like his chest had been broken open and hollowed out, all of his internal organs scooped onto the ground. The only thing that remained inside him was a deep-seated ache. He tried to soothe it with conversation but Tess didn’t want to hear it, kept telling him it’s better this way and to move on. He tried to temper his loneliness with touch, but when he reached for Sasha’s hand after dinner one night she ripped it out of his grip. One evening, in a particularly weak moment, he nuzzled into Kerri’s neck while she was washing dishes, her hands occupied and covered in suds. 

“Oh,” she squeaked, startled by his touch.

“Hey,” he said, muffled against her skin, twitching under the brush of his beard.

“I’m not really–” she started.

He didn’t let her finish. He was out of the room before she could even finish her sentence. How fucking pathetic was he? He didn’t even want her – not really – and she couldn’t even stand to be touched by him. This is what you’ve done to him, this is what you’ve made him. He’s been ruined by you.

When it's been just over a month since you left, things at the house finally get back to a sense of normalcy again. For a while, Tess was the only one speaking to him, and besides the Thursday meetings Beth was assigned to accompany him to, she avoided him like the plague. Kerri wouldn’t meet his eyes, Rosie shuffled away from him whenever he entered a room, and Sasha gave him dirty looks every time she passed him in the halls. But with time, things were improving. There was a low hum of conversations around the dinner table now – none of them involving him – but at least everyone else was happy.

The following Sunday Amber traps him in a corner and starts saying shit about coming to live with him. He has no idea where she got this idea in her head but she keeps trying to touch the buttons on his shirt and he’s doing everything in his power not to swat her little fucking hands away. He sees Tess giving him a look and he knows. He knows he needs to get away from her, that people can see him, that people will talk. What if you see him? You’re never gonna come back home if you think he’s messing around with this annoying child. He has to stop using her for information, he has to cut her off.

The following Thursday marks the end of February and Amber’s reports have gotten brief and repetitive. Walks alone along the pastures, always has her nose in a book at bedtime, late to every meal (much to her mother’s chagrin). She tells him that you only leave the farm on Sundays for church and on Wednesdays for your bath, having to settle for a weekly wash at the Covered Bridge Inn another mile down the road with some of the other farming families. He bets you’re missing your three soaks a week since you left town.

Joel decides to cut Amber off then and there, she’s not giving him anything he doesn’t already know and he needs more, he wants more. He needs to fill that emptiness inside him and you’re the only thing that can make him feel whole again. He’s barely looked at you in weeks, always avoiding watching you directly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of thinking he gives a fuck. He doesn’t, not really. He just wants to soothe the hole you left. He convinces himself he just needs a taste, just needs a peek. He just needs to see if you’re missing him, to make sure you’re suffering the way he is, the way you should be. He wants to see it for himself. Then he can get over you – move on – like Tess says he should.

He waits until the following Wednesday and makes a trip out to the Mansfield’s farm when he knows you’ll be gone for your bath. Only Hank remains on the farm to greet him but is honored and excited by Joel’s presence. Joel makes up something about wanting to visit Hank because of how much he respects all of his hard work, but asks Hank to not spread the word lest the other farmers be jealous. Hank nods in agreement as he shows Joel around the property and then welcomes him into his humble home.

When Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom he takes a walk around the upstairs, checking each bedroom to find yours, recognizing it when he sees one of your old shirts on the bed. He lifts your pillow to his face, huffing in your familiar scent. Under your pillow is a book, paperback cover worn and tattered, Of Mice and Men by John Steinback. Joel stuffs it in his waistband and pulls his shirt back down, heading back downstairs to tell Hank he should get going.

There’s no mention of his visit by his little spy the next night so, he assumes Hank kept it a secret and you were none the wiser. He wants to go to the farm again, he wants to have another piece of you. Just one more taste, just one more. He waits until late in the day on the following Wednesday and, avoiding traps he and his patrols helped set, he rides out and sneaks onto the property from the neighboring fields. Hank is working out in the far pasture and doesn’t even notice Joel’s surreptitious arrival.

The house is unlocked and he goes straight to your room, this time laying down in your bed, letting himself soak in the scent of you wafting off the sheets. He thinks of you crawling in the bed every night at the end of a long day working your ass off on this farm, a big change from the cushy life you had back home. He knows you only get a bath once a week here, and he can smell your scent on the sheets strongly. He smells sweat, dirt, farm animals, and a trace of tangy milk. You must change the sheets when you get back from your bath. This must be the most pungent they smell all week.

He grabs his dick overtop his pants, he can feel it already hard and aching at the thought of you. He wishes he had more time to lie here, to really be able to enjoy himself, but he made up an excuse to Tess and she’ll be suspicious if he’s gone too long. He takes his hand away from the front of his pants and instead grabs your pillow, throwing it over his face to breathe it in a final time. He gets up, adjusting himself, and takes a step towards the door before he doubles back and snatches your pillowcase off the pillow, stuffing it down the front of his shirt.

—

He’s panting slightly as he makes his way in the back door of his house, having had to jog from the stables, cutting through the town park so he’d be back before Tess started wondering where he was. Kerri gives him a sideways glance and an empty smile, quickly turning her head back to her meal preparation. Tess and Sasha come up from the basement holding jars of preserved vegetables. 

“Where you been?” Tess asks.

“I told you,” he tries to stifle his heavy breathing. “I had to help Peter out with his solar panel issue.”

“But Peter’s wife Georgia just came by here not even ten minutes ago and asked how you were doin’,” she says, looking confused.

“Yeah well it wasn’t at his house,” Joel thinks quickly. “He’s been tryin’ to get it fixed up for little old Miss Betty, out– umm… over there by the woods.” He picked the most remote, home-bound person he could think of, hoping it would cover his ass.

“Oh, she needs power? For what?” she asks, setting down the jars on the counter with Sasha, not giving Joel her full attention anymore. He uses the opportunity to move out of the kitchen towards his office.

“I dunno, just helpin’ out Peter,” he says and then ducks out of the room before she can question him further. 

Once he closes his office door he pulls out your pillowcase from under his shirt and balls it up to his face, sniffing it more. He sticks it in the bottom desk drawer under the maps, where he keeps your lost pair of underwear, your rejected christmas gift, and the book he took from under your pillow on his previous visit. Something scratches at him from deep inside, something that might resemble guilt. He shakes it off. He has nothing to feel guilty for. If you want underwear, books, or your pillowcase so bad you can come back home and have them. 

—

He can’t even wait until next Wednesday to go over to the farm. Sunday morning rolls around – he’s spent all weekend planning this moment – and he gives a well-rehearsed speech to Tess about being sick. He doubles over in his bed and clutches his middle, groaning until her face softens and she puts the back of her hand to his forehead the way his mom used to. She brings him some water and rice and tells him to get some rest before heading to the services with everyone else in the house.

Once he’s left alone he jumps out of bed, throwing the covers off like a child on Christmas morning. He knew that if he went to church he’d be able to see you, maybe fill a little bit of his craving. But since he doesn’t really look at you, how much of you can he actually see? Knowing that Hank would bring your entire household to the service meant the farmhouse would be empty. He can sneak over there while everyone is preoccupied and have his fill of your scent, of the ghost of your presence. He needs this, he tells himself, he needs a little bit more before he stops, before he gets over you.

He doesn’t want to take a horse this time, wants to leave no trace of where he’s going or risk anyone seeing him riding out. Most of the town is at the church service but he wants to be extra cautious. He heads out the back door and ducks into the trees beyond the yard, making the long way around the populated square to hit the fence-line. He finds a well-worn path through two fence sections and, avoiding the traps he knows are there, darts south towards the farm. 

Joel’s knees are aching by the time he hits Hank’s property, heart pounding and feet throbbing, having set a brutal pace to make the trip in just about thirty minutes. His chest is heaving to catch his breath as he crosses over the creek and walks up the small hill to the old farmhouse standing like a silent monument above the pastures.

He takes his time on this visit, going through your side of the dresser, recognizing the clothes you had before, touching the fabric with his fingers that he would feel beneath his touch whenever he held you in the mornings. He looks in the closet – mostly Amber’s clothes – but sees a nice dress in there he assumes Hank intended for you to wear to church. Joel’s never seen you in a dress, maybe no one here has either, since you’ve certainly never worn this one. 

He takes off his clothes and climbs in your bed, lying face flat on your pillow, and smells you. Not your soap or shampoo, but you, the real you. The you he used to smell when you were at home, when you were in his arms, when you were his. Before you left him, before you broke him, before he was empty. He slowly humps against the bed – his cock rubbing the worn, softened sheets – and thinks of you. 

He imagines you coming back and catching him, throwing your arms and legs around him, crying how much you miss him and kissing him until he agrees to take you home. His come spills on your sheets and he throws the blanket back over top, leaving the mess for you to find. Part of him hopes you know it was him. He puts half his clothes on and then begins to get sleepy, having stayed up half the night going over and over in his head his plans for today. He lies down on top of the bed just to rest his eyes for a moment.

He doesn’t hear the horses pull up with the wagon outside, or the door opening and people entering the house downstairs. He doesn’t hear anything until there’s footsteps on the stairs coming towards where he’s still half naked and just awake. Shit. He jumps up and grabs the rest of his clothes off the floor, kicking his boots under your bed and jumping in the closet just as Amber bursts in the room, humming a hymn and babbling about how she wants to make soup to send to him. You hum in assent but otherwise say nothing.

He wishes he could see you, but he’s pushed himself into the closet and to the side as much as possible. He is half-covered by a mothball-smelling crocheted cardigan and a mildew-smelling old raincoat. He hears the soft sounds of fabric and the wooden creak of dresser drawers, then you both silently shuffle out of the room and down the stairs. He waits a long time until he's sure the coast is clear and manages to get himself dressed, pull on his shoes, and make it downstairs. 

He hides in a closet for several hours, hearing Amber and her mother all around the first floor, cleaning and cooking and gossipping to each other. Where are you? Are you in the hayloft like Amber said you like to be? Are you feeding goats or milking cows? He wants to see you but he knows he has to go, knows he’s stayed too long. Everyone has been back at his house for hours and Tess will most definitely be wondering where the fuck he went to. 

It’s mid-afternoon by now and he knows he can’t waste anymore time. He ducks out of the closet and runs for the closest patch of trees as quickly as he can. As soon as he’s in the cover of the woods he starts thinking of the shit show he’s gonna walk into. Tess is gonna give him the third degree. He left no note, no indication of where he would be. What excuse is he even gonna give? He played sick so convincingly and now what is he gonna do? What can he tell her that will be believable? 

His mind is racing with a hundred different thoughts and he’s trying to ignore the sting of the cold air in his lungs and the burning of his thighs as he presses forward up another hill. He’s sure that’s why he misses the trap. Because he knows where they all are, he helped set almost every single one. He has a map in his office with all of them marked off, directs the patrols to check and maintain them. He knows better. But he’s distracted. You’ve distracted him. This is all your fault. That’s all he can think as he feels the trap clamping over his ankle and the biting pain shooting up his leg. This is all your fuckin’ fault.

Joel loses his balance quickly as the counterweight trips and yanks his leg out from under him. He sees the whole world flip and feels the fire of tearing flesh licking up his leg. He comes to rest with his shoulders on the ground, his head brushing against the fallen leaves, but the lower half of his body lifted up in the air, strung up in the tree by his ankle. Shit, this is a good trap, he was so proud when he thought of it and now he can confirm that it’s quite debilitating and extremely painful. 

—

The sun has started setting when Joel hears a single step behind him and he whips his head around, facing a lone figure, light hair braided over her shoulder, pack on her back stuffed full. Sasha.

“Hey honey… I didn’t hear ya coming,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, Joel,” she looks him over quickly, “That’s kinda the point.”

She opens her mouth to ask a question – probably something akin to what the fuck are you doing out here – but then she looks southward, towards the still-visible fields of the dairy farm, and back at him. She closes her mouth, deciding not to ask something she already knows the answer to. Instead she looks him up and down, taking in the scene in the fading light.

“You uhh… you want me to get you down from there?”

“Well what’s the alternative, honey?” He motions around. “You gonna leave me here?”

“I could…” her face remains impassive, considering her options, “But Tess would probably miss you.”

Joel lets out a huff and gives her a partial smile, it’s as much as he can manage having been stuck like this for far too long. Sasha throws her pack down and fishes some bolt cutters out of the back, reaching them above Joel’s ankle and cutting a chain link rather easily. Joel's body unceremoniously slams down to the forest floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she mutters, kneeling down to check him over. “What’d you think was gonna happen when I cut it?”

“I dunno honey but I’m not a fuckin’ gymnast. I’ve been hangin’ upside-down for hours, so I’m kinda at the whim of gravity right now.

“Well twinkle toes, good thing you’re not training for the olympics, because your leg looks absolutely fucked. We need to get you to the clinic ASAP.”

Yeah yeah yeah Joel grumbles, grunting and groaning as Sasha helps him to his feet, leaning into his side so she can support his weight on his bad side.

“Is your horse nearby?”

“Didn’t bring a horse,” he sighs.

“Joel, we’re still over a mile away from home and your leg–”

“Well we better get going then, huh?”

“But, Joel–”

“Time’s a wastin’ honey, let’s go.”

—

By the time the doctor finishes wrapping Joel’s ankle, he can already see the blood seeping through the bottom layers of the bandages. She’s given him some expired meds for the pain that are managing to take the edge off, but he’s still extremely uncomfortable. He’s not gonna tell her that though.

“I’m gonna need to see you tomorrow to clean and redress this wound.”

“I can come by after–”

“No,” she interrupts. “No, Joel, I’ll make a house call, you shouldn’t be walking on this at all. This needs to be elevated so the swelling can go down.” She wraps the second layer tighter and Joel bites back a noise. She notices. “That’s why it’s leaking like this, you didn’t elevate it,” she scolds, and then murmurs under her breath, “And you walked a mile on it.”

“Well I knew you made house calls but I didn’t think you’d make middle-of-the-forest calls.”

She makes a noise that sounds like hmmm, and grabs another roll of gauze to keep wrapping around. He’s not sure if she bought his story, that he and Sasha were scavenging together and he wasn’t looking where he was going, but she removed the trap from his ankle and gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics. He didn’t even realize she had all of that here but she opened a locked cabinet and there was a secret stash of medicines, just waiting for him.

Since he was hanging upside-down he didn’t lose much blood and the doctor told him she doubts there’s a broken bone, given that the trap clamped down above the ankle bones and more into the meat of his leg. She is worried about infection, of course, and said that the way it pulled on his leg could take a while for the muscles to heal. How long did Sasha leave you hanging there she kept asking and he kept explaining that they’d split up to cover more ground, and she’d found him when he missed their meet-up time.

“I think that’s enough, Doc, quit fussin’ over me,” he tells her as he shifts on the bed to get up. “Get Sasha for me and I’ll head home, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it elevated.”

“Sasha left after she dropped you off Joel,” she leans back and points to the doorway, where one of the clinic staff has rolled in a rusted wheelchair. “We’re gonna take you.”

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Oh cut it out, you already got your tetanus shot.”

—

He gets out of the chair and stumbles up the front steps, forbidding them from helping him through the door and promising to elevate his leg and keep it that way, trying to keep his voice in a whisper and not disturb the house. He hops inside and his fears are immediately realized when he sees Tess waiting for him at the dining room table. Their eyes meet and they stare at each other in silence for a long while before she rises out of her chair and points to an empty one.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says, walking into the kitchen.

Joel sits in the chair and Tess comes back in, motioning for him to put his leg up on the bench next to him, setting a cloth ice pack gently on his injured leg. She slowly sits down and resumes looking at him. A long silence passes between them.

“You gonna make me ask?”

“Ask what?” he says casually, then she pins him with a look and he drops all pretense, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure Sasha already told you.”

“She didn’t tell me why.”

“Why? You already know that too.”

“I know you were out there at the farm, Joel, sneakin’ around, messin’ with her stuff, fuckin’ with her head, I don’t know what all you get up to. But why, Joel? Why?”

“What do you care, anyway?”

“Why can’t you leave her alone?” she hisses

“Why is that any of your fuckin’ business?”

Tess slams her hand down on the table and hisses, “You made it my business when you brought her into my house.”

“Your house, is it?”

“You’re goddamn right it’s my house, and I take care of everyone in it. I sent her to the farm to get some relief from you and your behavior, and you can’t show one ounce of self control? Who the fuck are you?”

“I don’t think–”

“No, you’re not thinkin’, that’s the problem,” she interrupts. He’s stunned into silence. “I’ve taken a lotta shit in my life, Joel, and I’ll keep taking it if it’s for the greater good. I’ve followed you around for years and I’m loyal, but I ain’t stupid. I see you slipping. Everyone does. Everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve sacrificed for you… you gotta play your role.”

“I’m tired of it,” he whispers.

“You’re not tired of everything it gets you.”

He grumbles at that and mutters something like it doesn’t get me what I really want, and she knows he means you. She knows he still wants you, even when he pretends like he doesn’t. She sees the way he purposely avoids you and looks the other way when you come near. It’s all bullshit bravado, and she fuckin’ knows it. She knows he’s sad, lonely, heartbroken without you. But she needs him to either put up or shut up. Admit it or move on. She can’t have him stuck in this loop of destruction.

“Leave her be, Joel. It’s done with her, it’s over.”

—

Two weeks go by in a blur, Joel doesn’t sneak away to the farm, he avoids Amber at the Thursday meetings, he steers clear of you at the Sunday service. He goes where Tess tells him to go, meets with who she tells him to meet with. His leg heals well and he’s back on his feet much sooner than the doctor expected him to be. He spends his days working with the gardeners in town to get ready for spring planting, and the evenings working in his office to schedule patrols and plan maintenance for sections of the perimeter fencing. 

He keeps his head down and keeps his mind occupied. He starts to feel better, and then he’ll lie in bed at night and he’ll hear the door to the tiny room across the hall close and remember you’re not there. It cuts like a knife in his hollow chest, the slow thumping of his heart echoing in its empty chamber. He feels bad for going the whole day without missing you and his stomach gets tied up in knots over everything that happened. 

He tries so hard not to think of you, to keep his mind busy with anything else… until he can’t. Until everyone stands up as he introduces Bianca’s baby to the community and then everyone sits back down and there you are. You’re standing in the middle of a pew halfway back, staring daggers through him. Looking at him like he just slapped you in the face. He can’t help but look at you – for the first time in over two months – and watch you come undone.

He sees you run out of the sanctuary and only Tess’ iron grip clawing at his elbow keeps him from running after you. After the service he tells her he’ll meet them in the hall for lunch and she reluctantly leaves him, mouthing behave yourself as she goes.

And then you’re in front of him again, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes. There’s so much fire in yours, he hasn’t seen you look like this since the first day he saw them, backed into a corner of the clinic like a trapped animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce. You start snapping at him, biting him with your words, and he can’t fucking help himself. He bites at you right back. Every sharp barb of your tongue, every click of your fangs, he’s spurred on to hiss and claw in response. You call him a liar and then tell him you don’t care when it couldn't be more obvious that you do. 

Why won’t you just admit that you care? Why won’t you just admit that you miss him? Why are you so afraid of the truth?

You brush by him, purposely knocking his arm with your shoulder as you exit and when he turns to follow you he sees Tess in the doorway. She walks up to him and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until her arms close around him and he’s sobbing into her shoulder.

“She hates me,” he heaves.

“She doesn’t hate you, Joel,” she hushes.

“She does. She thinks that was my baby.”

“Did you tell her it wasn’t?”

“No,” he sniffles.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Cause I’m incapable of doing the right thing. I just keep fucking up,” he sobs. “I keep doing the wrong thing every fucking time. I grab her, I hurt her, I say the wrong thing, I fuck it all up.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he wails.

“I do, I know why.”

“Why then?” Joel sniffles.

“It’s easier for you to push her away than it is to let her in.” 

—

Joel is sitting in silence at the dinner table later that night, mindlessly picking at his plate, lost in his thoughts. The meal has long-since finished and the women are clearing the table, moving in and out of the kitchen and talking with each other. Beth is excitedly telling them about a barn cat who had kittens last year and everyone is gushing over the talk of adorable kittens. 

Joel remembers Sarah finding two abandoned kittens after a soccer game one cloudy May afternoon, two flea-infested little rats hiding behind the practice field’s bathrooms. She’d carried them in her shirt back to him, all three of them crying, begging him to let her keep them. He said no a hundred times but still wound up driving all of them all the way across town to the only vet’s office open on a Saturday. Hundreds of dollars later they were stuffed full of medicine and food and were sleeping curled up in the crook of Sarah’s neck. 

She told him she understood when he said they couldn’t keep them forever – allergies, he’d explained – but that didn’t stop big, fat tears from rolling down her face when she placed them into the arms of their new owners.

“You did such a good job taking care of them,” he’d told her, wiping away her tears. “You should be so proud. Look how big they got! You did that! You gave them a shot at a great life.”

“You did it too, dad,” she’d said, hugging him, telling him he also did a good job.

He didn’t do shit, he just couldn’t say no to her. And she thought he hung the moon. She thought he was some kind of a saint. Joel Miller, patron saint of disgusting, sickly little kittens. The man she thought he was… he could never be that man. Not then. Not now. Not after everything he’s done.

And then he realizes he’s sobbing again, at the dinner table, and everyone is staring at him. 

“Y– You okay, Joel?” Beth asks.

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I was just… thinkin’ about Sarah.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Kerri says.

“Can everyone give us a minute?” Tess says.

The room quickly clears and Joel is still sputtering and sniffling at the head of the table. Tess sits down next to him and he slides off his chair, kneeling on the floor and burying his head in her lap, tears rolling down his face and soaking her jeans. He’s muttering I can’t lose her too and sobbing and Tess thinks this might be it, he might finally be ready to face it.

“What’s wrong, Joel?” Tess asks gently.

“She left me, I fucked up and she left, I don’t deserve her, she hates me, I’m a monster and she hates me and I don’t do anything right and I just fail over and over and she can’t stand me and all I do is–” his cries, devolve into a blubbering mess.

—

It’s just before midnight and the house is dark and quiet. Only a lamp in the living room casts a glow on them – Tess and Joel on the couch – where they’ve been sitting and talking for hours. He’s finally calmed down, having talked through months-worth, if not years-worth, of feelings with her. Things they’ve already talked about, things she’s suspected but never had confirmed, and secrets they’ve kept even from each other. It felt cathartic, like a weight lifted from the both of them, and they sit in companionable silence before they head up to bed.

A loud, frantic knocking at the front door makes both of them jump. Tess goes to answer it and all Joel hears is a tandem of words, spilling out like a waterfall so quickly he can only catch some of them. Not in bed… looked everywhere… can’t find... He gets up from his seat and heads to the door, freezing when he sees Danny and Diego’s harrowed faces standing on his darkened porch.

“W– what’s goin’ on?” Joel asks, looking between the two men and Tess.

Tess grabs his arm, bracing him.

“She left.”

🖤

NEXT

As always, muchas gracias to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk for sticking with me through my highs and my lows, my slumps, and my manic incessant babbling about CJ.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @blvckmvgicwoman

[queenuchiha89]

If requests are open can I request an itachi x little sister fic where he noncons her and forces her to call him onii-chan?🤤

I am happy to oblige! Enjoy! 👹

*** NSFW ***

*** TW.NONCON ***

*** 18+ MINORS DNI ***

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

This story contains noncon, incest, forced breeding, humiliation, degredation, and pet names. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!

She grunted under the weight of her older brother, and squirmed as she tried to push him off of her. It was useless. He outweighed her by nearly 50 pounds- all 50 of which- were pure muscle. There was no chance of her escaping our from under him, and she knew it. In defeat, she began to silently cry as he looked down at her with a malicious smirk. "Itachi why are you doing this?!" She cried out, shaking and terrified by her brother's aggressions towards her. Itachi pinned his sister's arms down to the bed, and forced on of his legs up between hers, opening them. "because you need to learn that a little sister's purpose... Is to serve her older brother..." He growled as he licked the tears off of one of her rosy cheeks. Her eyes grew wide in fear, as she could feel the fully hard length of his manhood pressing against her now bare stomach, and she realized what he was about to do to her. "i-itachi no! Please don't!" She cried tears streaming down her cheeks. Her cries fell on deaf ears, however. She knew it was just them at home and not many members of the clan currently at the compound. She did the her best to fight off the elder Uchiha, but she was fighting a closing battle. Within an instant, Itachi had positioned himself against the virginal opening of his sweet sister, looking down at her with a sick ferocity in his eyes. Itachi pushed his long thick cock slowly inside his sister, and she cried out in pain as itachi stretched out her virgin walls. Itachi's head fell in pleasure, savoring his sister's tightness while she writhed in pain.

Itachi began thrusting into her hard, the head of his cock pressing firmly against her cervix with every stroke. He reached down to brush the hair out of her face as she cried. "Don't cry little sis... Soon you're going to love your Onii's cock filling up that tight little pussy of yours!" Itachi said, thrusting now more viciously than before. His little sister whimpered as her stomach tightened, a strong orgasm building deep within her core, much to her horror. She shook her head back and forth violently, trying to hold back her orgasm, To not give him the satisfaction... But Itachi knew. He smirked down at her as he watched her try to fight the growing sensation. "You're going to cum aren't you?? You are a little slut aren't you??" He mocked as he felt his own orgasm beginning to pique. He grabbed her hips firmly, and looked deep into his little sister's eyes. "Call me onii-chan, little sister. I know you want to." Itachi grunted out with each thrust getting more and more aggressive and erratic. She shook her head in protest, still trying to will away her orgasm and failing, but Itachi grabbed her by the throat and activated his sharingan, forcing her to look into his eyes. "do it... Or I'll kill you right now..." He growled. Terrified and defeated by her older brother, she looked up at him and whined "o-onii-chan!" As she did her body shook and trembled as her orgasm ripped through her body, her brother's cock twitching inside her as he spilled his seed directly into her womb.

Itachi kept his cock inside her, letting it go soft, careful not to let a single drop of his seed be wasted. "you're going to be mine. I just made sure of that..." He said with a darkness in his eyes she had never seen before. He pressed his hand to her stomach just above her mound. "My little sister is going to be a mommy now..." He took her face in his hand and forcefully kissed her pouty lips. "Tell onii you love him... " He said his sharingan still activated. She swallowed hard "I-i love you... Onii-chan..." She said sniffling through tears. "good girl." He kissed her forehead. "Now go clean up before everyone gets back. If you do what I say, I'll give you more tonight when everyone's asleep..." He walked out without another word, leaving her feeling helpless and ashamed.

[wandasreallover]

Elizabeth olsen x reader|

Title: A Moment to Remember

Warnings:none :)

The soft hum of evening chatter enveloped the quaint rooftop restaurant, cresting with laughter and mingling aromas that swept through the air, where night began to embrace the city. Dressed in a flowing emerald gown that mirrored the lush foliage of the garden planted around the patio, Lizzie sat beside you at a round table covered in flickering candlelight. Around you, a colorful group of family and friends gathered to celebrate the success of her latest film, a heartfelt family drama that had tugged at the heartstrings of audiences everywhere.

The table was adorned with an array of delectable dishes and drinks, where glasses clinked like cheerful bells every few moments. Among the group, Natasha Lyonne animatedly recounted a behind-the-scenes mishap from “Poker Face,” her voice a joyful melody laced with humor. Having known Lizzie for years, Natasha feigned confusion at the radiant glow that surrounded Lizzie, whose attention seemed fully consumed by you.

You could feel the gentle warmth of Lizzie's hand clasped over yours beneath the table, her fingers tracing soft patterns along your palm. The world around you dimmed as you focused on the beautiful woman beside you, her heart-stopping smile stealing your breath away. Her wide, soulful eyes locked onto yours—soft and full of unspoken affection.

“Honestly,” Natasha continued, oblivious to the connection unfolding before her, “I had no idea that someone could mess up a simple card game so dramatically. You’d think it was a heist movie!”

The nearby laughter rang out like music. Lizzie’s lips curled into a half-smile, but her gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on you. You could feel your cheeks warming as her thumb brushed delicately against your wrist.

“Lizzie?” Natasha persisted, her voice teasing and curious, now honing in on her friend. “How about you, Miss Movie Star? What do you have to say?”

It took Lizzie a moment to snap back from her daze, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “What? Oh! I’m sorry, Nat—did you say something?” She blinked, suddenly coming back into the chaotic rhythm of laughter and chatter, her gaze narrowing as she tried to catch up with the conversation.

“Just wondering if you had any funny stories from the set,” Natasha replied, grinning devilishly as she leaned in. “Or do you only have eyes for your… date?”

Caught in the flurry of Natasha’s playful interrogation, Lizzie stuttered, her cheeks flushed a rosy hue. “I—uh, I mean… we had a lot of fun. The kids got ahold of the script and turned it into a musical number!” The words tumbled out of her lips, though they barely resembled sentences.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, her expression dance-like and mischief-laden. “Right… but speaking of eyes, I’d say your focus is elsewhere, pretty girl,” she teased, shifting her pointed gaze toward your interlinked hands. “Is it the food or the company? Because let me tell you, your date has some fierce competition.”

You chuckled softly, feeling flattered and amused by the playful banter. “I mean, the food is great, but I can’t lie—having Lizzie beside me definitely ups the quality of this dinner.”

Lizzie’s cheeks deepened in color, but her grip on your hand tightened, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s sweet,” she murmured, smiling softly in your direction before returning half-heartedly to Natasha. “But I swear, we really did have an amazing time filming. It’s just the kids—I mean, they’re too talented for their own good, honestly. What can I say?”

The conversation flowed on, transporting to various topics, yet it always felt like all roads led back to the two of you. Lizzie immersed herself in the moment with you, occasionally breaking the fourth wall of the party atmosphere to steal glances, each look heavy with affection.

As the waiter swooped in to serve dessert, Natasha took the opportunity to lean across the table, a conspiratorial glimmer in her eyes. “So, what’s the deal with you two? The chemistry’s practically palpable, and I’d be surprised if even the cake didn’t notice.”

The laughter burst from the table, light and teasing, but Lizzie’s candid laughter quickly turned into a smirk. “Okay, okay! Yes, there’s something between us,” she confessed, her voice bright yet suddenly vulnerable. “I’ve just enjoyed these moments—so intimate and real. It feels nice to share it with someone who understands.”

“Aw, that’s adorable,” Natasha teased, her good-natured ribbing morphing into sincerity. “Just don’t forget that this place is a dinner, and you have to leave some of that love for the rest of us, too!”

You chuckled, unable to help the warmth spreading from your heart. Lizzie’s eyes met yours once more, and in that shared silence, you sensed the fabric of something beautiful unraveled between you. “I promise,” you whispered, “I’ll always save more love for you.”

As dessert plates crowded the table, Lizzie shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. The noise around faded into the background. You could feel her warmth, a gentle yet furious flame, pulsating against your skin. She brought your interlocked hands just slightly closer to her face, pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckles, purposefully slow, her eyes sparkling like liquid diamonds.

Natasha observed, a knowing smile forming as she grinned at your intertwined hands. “Well, looks like I've got front-row seats to the cutest show of the night,” she said, raising her glass. “Let’s toast—to love, friendship, and sweet moments that make life worth living. To you two!”

With glasses raised high, the laughter swelled around you, washing over like a comforting tide. Lizzie’s fingers wrapped tighter around yours, as the connection you shared transcended mere words. It was in gestures, shared glances, and a simple understanding that shone in the night.

In that lively rooftop setting, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it was clear that this evening was not only a celebration of Lizzie’s success, but of the tender bond that had begun to blossom between you. In every moment, every smile, you felt the essence of something beautiful taking root—a lifelong memory created under the stars.

And as the night stretched on, you made a promise to yourself: this was only the beginning.

For: @lizardslizzie

[zahraaziza]

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐘. 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this was initially intended to be a "sequel" to 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐍𝐓., however i decided to put my own creative spin on it and serve some more dbf! material featuring ellie this time!! inspired by writing on joel from the talented @velvetmud!! enjoy reading!!

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: a corrupted innocent femme reader & dad's best friend slash milf ellie williams type pairing.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. explicit sexual content. 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢.

—୨♡୧ now playing 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬_𝐱𝐝)

𝐃𝐁𝐅!𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 obtains some lovely footage of her neighborhood's sweetheart…

the pad of her thumb lazily rested on the record button of the camera enclosed within her palm, her freckled rosy lips wrapped around the scorched edge of a joint she'd previously grabbed off of your dad's secret stash, as tendrils of fragrant smoke gracefully swirled upon the tapering trail.

in the haze's gentle glow, she softly swayed the lense along the ever so delectable curves of your body adorned in nothing but your serene skin, yet wrapped in light clouds of that sweet respite parting the cup of her mouth.

"go on, baby, show me", she hushedly murmured, camera picking up each syllable seamlessly interlaced with the puffs she exhaled, as you hid the bashfully flushed apples of your cheeks within the soft caress of the satin sheets.

the edges of her nails traced the tender valley of the plush inside of your thighs, fingertips lingering right at the crease to your freshly fucked and dew-kissed silken folds, inscribing those delicate cries welling up in your chest upon the film reel.

"don't be shy, sweetheart", she lovingly doted in a slowly dissipating whisper, blowing out smoke from the corner of her mouth and ashing off whatever's left on the short remnant clasped between her teeth. her slim digits fleetingly brushed that needily pulsating nub squeezed amidst those velvety lips pouring your warm sweetened spend meshed with hers, all swollen and glossed over with lust in the blunt's ember glow.

"mmh, would you look at that", she hummed to herself at the mere sight of you prying apart your legs just a little further, eagerly capturing another angle of your juices tenderly sticking her favorite softer parts of yours together, as she softly dipped her fingers between the fine petals of your folds, meticulously lathering up your heat on her skin.

"wanna have you see what daddy's done to that sweet, pretty pussy, baby", knowing full well that she will easily finish less than two minutes into her very own slutty tape, reserved for your eyes alone, savoring every last bit of her devouring you in all the ways she knew your little heart desired, upon the silver screen.

༺♡︎༻𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @scarstarlet @millersaurora @anchoeritic @ellabsprincess @seraqhites @cowgirlcherrie @abbyskitty @destielcore @elliessknife @dropsofs4turn @milllersfae @cherriesxinthespring @dixonsdolls @digit4lslut @porcelainbambi @angvlita @kissesskittens @fxiryverse @elliesbelle @starologist @kokomos @xioriae @machetegirl109 @abbys-wife @lightpinkprincess444 @hazywazysmind @winfleurs @elliephobic @lias-writings @lonelyfooryouonly @beforeimdeceased @angel4abby @hehatesmati

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

[sempersirens]

a bird in your teeth, III

masterlist

summary: joel deals with the aftermath of a traumatic experience

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. reference to past SA, trauma, nightmares, general symptoms of PTSD. eventual smut

a/n: hello lovelies! slightly longer part ahead. i've decided to make the next part the final installment of this mini-series, i wanted to explore some more intimate aspects between joel and reader that didn't quite fit here. i hope you enjoy! <3

word count: 3.5k

The sweet chirping of birdsong felt like Mother Nature was playing a cruel joke on you as you stood on the side of the street, arms hugged tightly around yourself. You felt as though the birds were laughing down at you, cackling at your wretched state, sharing an inside joke at your expense. As dawn drew in, her rosy fingers pulled at the remnants of the night's sky. The beauty of the orange and pink hues was wasted on you. To you, it served as a reminder that even as a new day rolled in, the memories swarming your mind wouldn't fade quite as swiftly.

When Joel's truck came hurtling towards you, all notion of time had faded away. You couldn't tell if seconds, hours, or even days had passed since you had lowered your phone from your face. Fifty dawns and dusks could've gone by for all you cared.

The heat from your pumping heart manifested into a blush that crept up your cheeks, and the consequence of your damsel-in-distress phone call settled in your gut.

Joel was here. You had called him, and he had come.

"What happened?" His expression was stern, hair disheveled, and flannel shirt almost comically misbuttoned. You would've laughed if you could remember how.

He grazed your bloody lip with this thumb.

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

"This was a mistake..." You became aware of his hands now on your arms. "Please, don't touch me."

The words tumbling out of your mouth must've sounded as limp and pathetic as you felt. Joel's eyes softened into confusion, and then concern. You didn't have the energy to pull away, but you couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye anymore. You feared his gaze would open every locked door inside of you and allow the mess to collapse onto him.

He said your name, softly, removing you from his grip and opening the passenger door.

"Let me take you home."

As you had done all night, you silently obliged. Joel guided you into the truck, his hand hovering over the crown of your head. He closed the door gently and made his way into the driver's seat, starting the ignition in silence. Was he angry? You couldn't work it out. His knuckles were wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel they had turned white.

"Joel, please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry. I'm taking you back to my place, gonna get you cleaned up, and then when you're ready..."

"Is Sarah okay?" You interrupted.

"Sound asleep. I gotta take her to school in a coupl'a hours, but I'll come straight back to you."

This wasn't right. You shook your head in soft defiance, staring at your lap where your hands sat, fingers interlocked. As you thought of all the trouble you had caused him, you noticed your thumbnails digging into your hands so sharply that you had drawn blood. You turned your palms shakily onto your bare thighs to hide the fresh droplets.

"Honey, where are your shoes?"

Joel's soft inquiry snapped you out of your trance; you hadn't even realized you'd left those fucking cowboy boots on the bedroom floor in your rush out of the front door.

"I left them... I-I didn't think to..." Your breathing became erratic again, chest heaving with each rise and fall feeling like a weight was crushing into your ribcage.

"Hey, hey hey. Breathe. You're with me. You're safe with me, you know that." He reached across your lap and squeezed your still interlocked hands, filling his lungs with air and then exhaling slowly through his mouth like he was a midwife guiding you through childbirth.

You copied his rhythmic breaths, focusing on the emerging purple colors now littering the sky. It was cruel for the sky above you to be so warm and inviting.

You wished for an English February; for thick layers of ice coating the ground with black ice hidden underneath. You wanted it to be the cold that had caused your muscles to freeze, or the harshness of a dry wind to be clawing down your throat. You wished you could blame the weather for the way your body was reacting.

Of all people, you didn't want Joel to see you as weak. You internally reprimanded yourself for pulling him out of his home, away from his daughter to come and save you. Your body and soul had never taken to relying on others easily. Who had you become? You were supposed to be strong. You moved across the world all by yourself, for god's sake.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours?"

"Everything."

The remainder of the journey was silent.

Joel pulled into his driveway, soon exiting the truck and jogging to your side to help you out.

"Easy, darlin'."

He carried your handbag on one arm and looped the other to support your waist. With his free hand, he unlocked the door and closed it quietly behind him.

"Sarah's not gonna be up for another couple hours, you go make yourself comfortable in my bedroom, I'll bring everything y'need."

You gave him a pathetic nod before traipsing up the stairs you had watched Sarah scurrying up only six hours ago. Despite your years of friendship with the Millers, you had never actually gone into Joel's bedroom. You had snuck a peek or two inside whenever the door was left ajar if you passed on your way to the bathroom, but had never set foot inside.

His bedsheets were haphazardly thrown back, half dangling onto the carpeted floor. The fan on his dresser was still humming, sending ripples through his pillowcases. You were reluctant to make yourself at home as he had instructed, so perched on the edge of his bed eyeing the posters dotted on his walls. His bedroom looked like it hadn't changed since his 20s, reminding you of how young he must've been when he started a new life to bring up Sarah in a home he could call his own.

Joel appeared at the door, shutting it softly behind him. He was balancing a steaming mug and a first aid kit in one hand, and some pillows from the sofa under his other arm. He set the mug down on the nightstand beside his bed. Tears swelled in the corner of your eyes at what you recognized as the Yorkshire Tea he kept stocked in the cupboard, especially for you.

"Want you to sit back and get real comfy, alright?"

"Okay."

You hesitantly lifted your legs to rest on the bed, shuffling backward towards the headboard. Joel set the first aid kit at the foot of the bed and leaned over to place the pillows behind your back.

"That okay?"

You nodded your head without looking directly at him.

Wordlessly, Joel walked around to the other side of the bed, setting himself down with a barely audible groan. He brought the first aid kit into his lap and started sifting through the contents.

"You mind if I take a look at your lip?"

"No. I mean - that's fine."

You parted your lips slightly, Joel's fingers lifting your chin up towards him.

"Washed m'hands, promise."

He pulled your bottom lip down to inspect the wound, cleaning the now-dried blood from your chin. The silence in his bedroom made his touch even more intense. You'd felt his hand on your waist, or accidentally brush past your bare skin now and then, but this... You had never been touched by anybody like this before. His eyebrows were furrowed tightly as he put all of his focus into handling you with care.

You had been with your fair share of guys before; boyfriends, one-night-stands, whatever. But the way you felt under Joel's gaze in this moment, holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, made you feel like nobody had ever truly touched you before. Like you were brand new. It made you want to sob. You had to start regulating your breathing again to prevent your lip from wobbling, shattering your impenetrable exterior.

"M'I hurtin' you?"

Finding courage hidden somewhere deep inside of you, you leveled your gaze with his. This close to his face, you could've sworn you saw his pupils dilate.

"No. It's fine, thank you."

"You're doin' so well, honey. Keep breathin' for me." He moved his thumb to stroke your jaw as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Joel."

"Don't say that. This ain't your fault."

"How can you say that? You don't even know what happened."

"Don't need to. But, I'd be grateful if you'd be so kind as t'fill me in."

You sucked a breath in and brought your knees up to your chest. The birds outside the window began mocking you with their song again.

"You get in a fight? W'that friend of yours who picked you up earlier?"

Oh god. He really had no clue.

"No, nothing like that."

"Somethin' while you were out? Sweetheart, someone had t'have busted your lip like that?"

"I said no."

"So what, you don't remember? You taken somethin'? You're scarin' me, darlin'."

He was pleading. It was dripping all over his face, this deep despair searching your features for the answers your voice couldn't quite give him.

"No, I do. I mean- I said it, I said no. To a guy. O-one second I was falling asleep and then... he was just there, Joel. He appeared out of nowhere. I thought he had gone home. And I was saying no but he was all over me. He was everywhere."

Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, a dichotomy of relief and anguish flooding through your veins so intensely that any hope of maintaining a stoic facade had long washed away.

You didn't make a sound as you sobbed. Your entire body jerked with each breath, snot ungraciously dripping onto your upper lip. It didn't matter. Joel wrapped you into him without hesitation, your face nestled against his shoulder. He rocked you in his arms, back and forth, back and forth. Your sobs intensified into his t-shirt, eyes squeezed shut. You could feel the tears clinging onto the material, but all he did was hold you tighter.

"Oh, baby girl. It's okay, I got you. I got you now."

"I'm so sorry, Joel." You choked the words out.

"Don't you dare apologize. You let everythin' go. Give all that hurt t'me. I'll take it for you."

Joel pulled you into his lap, your legs collapsed underneath you. He placed a hand on either side of your face, holding you inches away from his own. He had never seen you like this. It shattered his damn heart. He had to keep blinking to fend off his own tears.

“You did the right thing, callin’ me.”

Every inch of him wanted to go back in time to you lingering in the doorway and ask you to stay the night. Hell, he would've gone back to that first time he saw you and taken you in his arms like a sailor returning home from years at sea. The only reason he'd even had the courage to turn up at your front door, mumbling something about burgers, was because Sarah had caught him peeking at you through the curtains for the first few days of you moving in. If you like her so much, why don't you ask her on a date? She had asked so innocently. But she was right; it was that simple. He fired up the grill before straightening himself up and jogging across the street. A Glenn Campbell record had been echoing through your house, something he found even more endearing when he was struck by that accent of yours.

He wanted to tell you that the reason none of his first dates made it to a second was because none of them were you. He was setting these poor women up to fail; how could they ever compete with you?

But right now, you were here. Safe in his arms. He was going to do everything in his power to bring that light back into your eyes.

An hour or so passed like that. You pressed against his chest, falling in and out of a dreamless sleep, Joel's fingers grazing soothing patterns on your arm.

The sound of Sarah's bedroom door closing jolted you awake.

"Ssh, it's okay. S'just Sarah getting ready t'head out. Gimme a minute to go say good mornin'."

You nodded in response, mustering a small smile.

You felt tiny alone in his bed, the absence of his body leaving you feeling hollow. You pulled the covers up to your chin and drew you knees up to your chest, dreading to think what Joel would tell Sarah. She called me in the middle of the damn night, what was I s'posed to do? Maybe she'll get the hint and leave. Imagined narratives swarmed your mind.

Why was it so hard for you to accept his help?

"Oh my god," you gasped, sitting up. "Daisy."

In your state, you had left her there all alone. Mark seemed like a nice enough guy, but didn't they all?

You reached for your handbag hanging off of Joel's door handle and searched for your phone.

14 missed calls. You tapped your foot against the floor anxiously as the dialing tone sounded.

"Moooornin' Ms. Cocktease. How's ya head?" She chirped, the relief that engulfed you allowed your body to slack back onto the bed.

"I am so glad to hear your voice." You breathed.

"That's romantic. You gonna tell me what had you scurrying off in such a hurry at 3am? Y'left your damn boots behind."

"I was... really worried about missing my 9am. It's with my thesis supervisor."

"Sweetheart, a love you but you gotta learn to relax once in a while. Let off some steam! Unclench your jaw, woman."

"I know, I know. I'll work on it."

"How'd you get home, anyway?"

"Oh, um. I called a cab."

"I feel like you're lyin', and I intend to find out what's goin' on. I swear to god if you're fuckin' that old man I'm not gonna know whether to be proud or-"

"Listen, babe, I'm glad you had a good night. Give me all the gritty details over coffee tomorrow?"

"Oh fine. Enjoy your meeting."

The line disconnected as Joel re-entered the room.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm gonna drop Sarah to school, but I'll be right back. Need me to pick you anythin' up from your place?"

"No, that's okay. I should get out of your hair-"

"I'll be right back."

He walked over and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

---

Joel couldn't concentrate for the entire drive back to his place. He had to pass the street he had picked you up from hours prior to get to and from Sarah's school. The image of you standing there so broken, now knowing exactly why, filled him with grief for the version of you he knew and adored. He wished he had known there and then what you had endured. He knew how strong and capable you were of looking after yourself, so he had to fight every urge to raid each block of flats along the street to find the guy who had done this to you.

He flexed his knuckles back and forth over the steering wheel, forcing himself to go straight home. Back to you. However you decided to deal with this, whether it be today or in five years' time, he would be behind you.

What he would do to find that pathetic excuse for a man, that boy, and slowly take each finger off that he had dared to touch you with. He would make him hurt in ways he didn't even know he could feel pain.

Joel's mind flicked back to the image of you breaking down in his arms and he sucked a breath in to steady himself. He wished he could take all of your pain away and alter the course of the last six hours to have you waking up in his arms unscathed.

He returned home to find you curled up asleep in his bed sheets. He crept under the cover next to you, about to pull you back into his arms when you started thrashing your arms and legs.

"No, stop!" You murmured, still fast asleep.

"Sweetheart, it's me. Hey, hey, hey. It's me. It's Joel." He spoke, holding your face between his hands to try to coax you out of your nightmare.

"Wake up, darlin'. You gotta wake up. It's me, you're safe."

Your eyes finally widened, consumed with fear and confusion. You searched your surroundings and backed away from Joel's grip, still calculating where you were and what the threat was.

"You're okay. Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby."

"Joel... I'm sorry, I-"

"Stop apologizing, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t'scare you, honey."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, slowing your breathing back down and ridding the sound of blood pumping in your ears.

"Do you mind if I have a bath, please?"

"Anything. I'll run you one now. Sarah has some o'that fancy girl soap if you want?"

You smiled softly.

"Sure, that sounds nice. Thank you, Joel."

Before heading to the bathroom, he placed a small kiss on your forehead, lingering with his lips on your skin for longer than he had before. Your eyes fluttered closed as you listened to his footsteps out of the bedroom.

Part of you was desperate to scrub away Elijah's touch until your skin was raw. But, another part of you didn't want Joel's smell to fade from you. In his arms his scent had consumed you, replacing the smell of your laundry detergent with his.

You squeezed your eyes tightly and shook your head.

Stop this. You're projecting onto him. He's looking out for you out of the kindness of his heart and you're taking advantage of it.

You tried to distract yourself from the fixating on the feeling of Joel's lips against your skin by shedding last night's clothes and replacing them with his dressing gown. Which of course also stunk of him. Great.

"S'ready." He called.

Catching sight of you in his dressing gown, Joel had to remind himself to close his mouth.

"Suits you." He smiled.

The bathwater was obscenely pink, bubbles almost escaping over the side of the tub.

Joel stood uneasily as you smiled at the domesticity of the scene.

"I'll give ya some privacy. Make myself busy downstairs. You just holler if y'need me, alright?"

"Joel, wait. Would you... it's stupid."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"Would you sit with me? I really don't want to be alone."

Joel’s response came so quickly you didn’t even have time to feel bad for being so forward.

"Of course I will. You get yourself comfortable, I'll wait outside the door."

You discarded his dressing gown onto the floor, sinking into the warm tub. You ran some more hot water, feeling unsatisfied until the water was hot enough to leave your skin red wherever it touched.

"Come in." You called, your torso submerged underneath the bubbles with just your collarbones and toes poking out of the pink waters.

Under any other circumstance, he would've dropped to his knees by the side of the tub and told you that he had never seen someone look so perfect before. Your flushed cheeks and hair bundled behind your head against the tiles made Joel feel like he was staring at an oil painting in a gallery.

He adored you. Fuck it, he was in love with you. From the very beginning.

Joel lowered himself onto the closed toilet seat, arms resting on his knees.

"Temperature okay?" Was all he could muster.

"I added a bit more hot, I hope that's okay."

"You women and your damn hot water." He teased. "S'absolutely fine, honey."

Neither of you spoke for a little while, you rested your head back and soaked in Joel's protective presence.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course, Joel."

"Did he..."

"No. It's funny actually, he couldn't get it up." You said dryly.

"But he tried?"

"Yeah, he tried."

"I'll kill him."

Joel's protectiveness overwhelmed you, feeling for the first time in your life that you had someone unconditionally in your corner. You lifted your arms from the water to cover your face in embarrassment, revealing finger-shaped bruises that had formed on both of your upper arms.

"Fuck," he breathed when he caught sight of the way you had been mistreated.

He knelt down beside the bathtub, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

"What can I do, honey?" He searched your face for an answer. "Tell me how to take all this away for you."

"Joel, you've done so much already. More than I could ever ask from you."

"I just wanna fix it."

By nature, Joel was a fixer. He patched up Sarah's knees and elbows after soccer games. He bailed Tommy out of jail more times than he would admit. Hell, he even fixed things for work. It was what he did.

"I want you to take me back there." You exhaled a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. "To the apartment. I need to go back."

"Y'sure that's a good idea?"

"I am. But I need to go in alone. I just want to know you'll be waiting outside for me if I need you."

"Sweetheart, I'll always come when you call."

[pumpkennpie]

mistletoe and ivy

landoscar ficlet, 867 words

i was wrapping christmas presents earlier and Received Revelation about stressed christmastime landad needing everything to be perfect for his little one, so here we are. bone apple teeth

Oscar’s first thought when he walks through his front door is that the apartment has been burglarized. He’s got his phone halfway out of his pocket to dial 999 when Lando’s face pops up from behind the couch, red and pouty, but unharmed.

Now that he’s not in panic mode, Oscar takes a second to pause and survey the scene. 

To be honest, it looks like a Christmas themed bomb has been detonated in their living room. There’s wrapping paper everywhere, ripped to shreds and crumpled up into little festive balls. The couch is completely covered with unwrapped presents, and there are small, sticky bows strewn all over the grey suede. 

Then there’s Lando. Oscar can only see him from the shoulders up, but every square inch he can see is absolutely coated in glitter. His cheeks are rosy, and he’s sporting a deep frown that can only mean one thing: he’s truly, unequivocally frustrated.

“Hi, love. Is there…” Oscar knows he needs to choose his words carefully. “Did you drop something behind the couch?” 

Lando’s bottom lip quivers. Fuck.

“Hey, it’s alright, I’ll help you. Just tell me what you need, yeah?” Oscar soothes. 

In his haste to get to Lando, he drops his overcoat and bag to the floor. He can hear the glass container Lando packs his lunch in clatter around in his bag, but that doesn’t matter right now.

By the time Oscar gets behind the couch and kneels in front of Lando, the first tears have already fallen. He takes Lando’s face between his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks to wipe away the wetness.

“I can’t get the corners of the paper to fold right, and the stupid bows aren’t sticking, and I didn’t buy enough gift boxes-” Lando cries, growing more upset by the second.

Oscar does the only thing he knows will work to get Lando to slow down and focus on anything else, if only for a moment. He leans forward and slots their mouths together, a chaste little thing that serves its purpose.

When Oscar pulls away, Lando’s eyes are still glassy, but not just with tears. There's a piece of cello-tape stuck to the tip of his nose.

“I just need this to be perfect,” Lando finishes, his voice barely a whisper. He’s smiling, but Oscar can see the desperation in his eyes.

That’s when it finally hits him.

It’s Ivy’s first Christmas. 

The wrapping paper littering the floor is not red and green, nor does it have Santa or snowflakes on it. It’s pink and glittery, and Oscar can see a few pieces with Bluey characters here and there. The unwrapped presents on the couch are sensory toys, soft blankets and plushes. There’s a few new outfits folded neatly on the cushions, sized 12-18 months. 

Everything around them, the entire mess that their living room has become, is all for their little girl.

“Lando, it won’t matter if the paper on her presents is creased, or if there aren’t any bows because they won’t stick. Ivy’s here, and she’ll be surrounded by people who love her, and that’s all that matters,” Oscar says, trying to reassure Lando. “Plus, she’s not even a year old yet. She’s not going to remember this.” 

One big tear falls from Lando’s eye, running down his cheek to catch in the dimple Oscar has his thumb pressed in.

“She won’t, but I will. We’re not going to get another first Christmas with her.” Lando looks up at him in a way that tells Oscar everything Lando can’t put into words. This is more important to Lando than Oscar will ever know.

“Ok,” Oscar smiles, pushing himself to stand. He holds a hand out to help Lando to his feet. “Then let’s figure out how to fold some wrapping paper.”

______________________________________________________________

Hours later, when the presents are perfectly trimmed and stacked neatly under the Christmas tree, Oscar realizes something.

“Lando?” 

Lando looks up at him with a smile. His head is in Oscar’s lap, and Ivy is sleeping soundly on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Why were you behind the couch when I got home?”

Lando flushes a pretty pink, nearly the same color as the velvet-soft blanket draped over their daughter’s back.

“Oh, uh. I was trying to hang some mistletoe, and I dropped it back there,” he replies, his smile turning bashful as he points to the ceiling. 

Oscar tilts his head back, and sure enough, hanging from a piece of string that’s shoddily taped to the ceiling is a tiny sprig of mistletoe. Oscar can’t help the surprised laugh that escapes him.

His laughter only grows when Lando reaches a hand up to swat playfully at his stomach.

“Lando, we’re married. You don’t have to trap us under mistletoe to get me to kiss you,” Oscar teases.

“It’s for the tradition, Oscar!” Lando chides. Ivy stirs on his chest, whining softly in her sleep. “Now kiss me before she starts crying.”

The second their lips meet, Ivy lets out the loudest wail her little body can possibly produce. Oscar and Lando break away with bright, joyous smiles. 

There’s no other place Oscar would rather be than right here.

[divine-misfortune]

Let the reason come on the common tongue

Kinktober day 2: Face fucking

Rating: Explicit

Relationship(s): Mist/Ifrit

Words: 1,184

Tags: Intersex Mist, cunt and dick used for her anatomy, Ifrit has an oral fixation, hair pulling, face fucking

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Mist let out a little shriek that turned into a breathless fit of laughter as she’s unceremoniously tossed into the overgrown pile of pillows at the head of Ifrit’s bed.

She wriggled around in the mass of blankets, unsure as to why a fire ghoul of all elements needed so much to keep warm with but not complaining about them in the slightest. They were all soft and smelled a little like the incense Alpha had always been so fond of, sandalwood and a bit like strawberry shortcake, sweet and a little floral. Far from what anyone would expect from Alpha. Mist didn’t mind how plush Ifrit’s bed was, and on any other day she might’ve just rolled over and buried her face into the sheets and refused to budge for a few hours but Ifrit had other plans. 

She’s yanked by the ankles further down the bed towards him, warm calloused hands pushed under the hem of her tank top and bunched the fabric just over the small swell of her tits. Thumbs working in tandem, he circled both rosy buds in time with each other, fixated on just how pebbled they were before he’d even touched them. 

Ifrit bit his lip and slowly drew his neatly filed claws down her sides, purposefully ghosting over the gills fluttering expectantly. Simply grinned like the devil when she made a face, she didn’t know why she continued to let fire ghouls bed her. Bastards, all of them. But despite that, she still arched off the mattress in order to follow the bite of his nails. At least Ifrit made an effort to declaw himself, she wouldn’t be wearing violently red welts for a week. 

He flicked his orange eyes up to hold her gaze and began mapping out a path of wet, open mouthed kisses down the line of her body. Over her sternum, down her stomach, forked tongue going so far as to trace the soft line of her belly before flicking at her navel. Mist hissed halfheartedly, giving his broad shoulder a weak smack.

“Get on with it before I change my mind,” she warned but her tone remained amused. 

“And to think I took you for the patient one.” 

“Sorely mistaken, cherry bomb. Now,” the spade of her tail batted him on the nose “I don’t want another word from you unless you’re choking on my dick while you say ‘em.”

Ifrit rolled his eyes and gave her belly a playful nip that had her glaring. He decided to put his teeth to better use at least, taking the tie of her sweatpants in his teeth to pull the bow loose. He hummed and Mist lifted her hips off the bed, making the awkward dance of shimmying her pants off before discarding them to some far off corner the slightest bit easier. Helpful, but Ifrit had seen enough pretty faced water ghouls to hold a slight suspicion of her actions, those fish had plenty of self serving tricks up their sleeves.

Her legs fell apart for him as he skimmed his touch up the inside of her calves, and she reached down to frame her half chubbed cock and her cunt between her fingers. Ifrit licked his lips like a hungry dog, eyes drawn like a magnet to the sight. He laid on his belly and rubbed a stubbled cheek against her thigh, very obviously drinking in her scent before diving in. 

That devilish tongue licked deep into her core for a mouthful of slick, always one to savor the taste before the meal. She tried not to gasp but he managed to draw it right out of her. Ifrit gave the tip of her cock an experimental kitten lick to watch it jump against her mound then proceeded to swallow her down in one go - not that she was terribly hard to accommodate to begin with. 

“Shh…it.” Mist dragged her hand through her hair. Dizzied from the feeling of her cock properly filling out in the impossible heat of his mouth. “That’s good, dragonfly…Just hold it for a second. Get it fully hard, I want to enjoy that mouth.”

Ifrit hummed and the vibration of it made her dick throb against the flat of his tongue, hissing out a curse. His tail waved lazily as his eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering lightly against his cheeks. She could watch the way his lips wrapped around it for hours but gave up, head falling back into the pillows to stare up at the ceiling. Such a pretty shade of pink bordering on red like he’d spent the better part of their afternoon sucking at a cherry lollipop instead of driving her up the walls by simply existing with that charming smile and those strong arms. 

Mist sighed and reached out to drag her fingers through his already mussed up hair, soft strands she could thread through like silk. Ifrit looked to her, propping himself up on his elbows, he exhaled heavily through his nose, hot breath tickling over her skin. Exhaling out that last little bit of tension and easing fully down the last few centimeters of her dick. 

“Ready?” Another hum that had her breath hitching. Devil knew what he was doing. 

Mist brought her other hand to his hair, wiggling knobby fingers to twist up at the roots till she found a good solid grip. Maybe a bit tighter than necessary but it was the way she knew Ifrit liked to be handled. His jaw relaxed as she tugged his head back. Fingers flexed in the sheets on either side of her hips, clearly getting restless. She’d have rolled her eyes or called him an overeager whore for the impatience but with him in such prime positioning she really was no better.

Like sliding home, she bucked off the bed. Tip of her cock grazing the back of his throat, just enough to trigger that urge to gag but not quite. His tongue was heavenly, the stud piercing it was an albeit strange sensation but added something maddening to the experience. Fire ghouls were her favorite, and she’d take that fact to her grave.

The first few thrusts up into his mouth were slow. Experimental. Trying to find just the right way to bury her cock in his throat. A cautious up and down, feet planted on the mattress to leverage herself. The muscles in her thighs flexed with effort when she finally decided on a satisfying pace. Short twitches upwards paired with her yanking his face down to meet her movements. 

Mist found herself panting rather quickly. Sweat beaded at her brow, clumsily working her way closer to the burn of promised bliss. Ifrit however already seemed there, drool slicking his chin, the glow of his eyes burning no brighter than embers. Always happy to find himself in a position like this, being taken. It was almost relaxing for the fire ghoul, responsibility plucked from his hands, brain forced to slow, and she was more than happy to provide. 

She just hoped she could last long enough for it to do the job.