#something quick for a dear anon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

serawritesthings · 1 year ago

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hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut

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spxllcxstxr · 2 months ago

Text

Dating Young Silco • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: you asked for silco requests?👀 how about some young!silco dating headcanons?🥰-- anon

Warnings: gn!reader, got a little suggestive in the first point?, drinking and smoking mention, average Silco and Undercity stuff

A.N: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY!!! Love this man omg, I hope you enjoy these!!

•

Out of his friends, Silco is the most introverted. He would rather spend the night with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a book in the other. He was never opposed to going out, as long as is friends were there by his side, but they weren't always his first choice. Despite this, however, Silco was also a firecracker. He was quick on his feet and always had a witty remark locked and loaded. Silco could pull you in with a smirk and a biting quip that always had you wanting more. Dating Silco was kind of like that; there were moments where the two of you were in his room at the Last Drop, swaying to soft music and sharing a smoke, and there were times where you would be galivanting throughout Zaun, hiding in dark corners from Enforcers (and likely pushed up against the rough brick wall, Silco's lips pressed against your own as his hands roam over your body)

Silco is not one for PDA. He will rest his hand on your thigh when sat next to you and will place it on the small of you back when standing, but that is really it. When just with Felicia, Connell, and Vander, he will show his affection just a little bit more. He will occasionally rest his head on your shoulder, maybe hold your hand and physically pull you closer to his own body. When he's drunk, however, that's a different story. Silco is all over you when he's intoxicated. He stumbles into your open arms, places kisses on your neck, even pinches your butt, and he doesn't care who's watching (Usually everyone is too drunk to care or respect the two of you enough to not say anything. Felicia and Vander LOVE it).

Silco prefers pet names like "my dear" or "my darling." He knows they drive you wild, but he also likes reminding you and everyone else that you're his. This isn't in a abusive or possessive way, he's yours as well, he just loves the reminder that the two of you are fully committed to one another. He finds it extremely endearing and it shows a softer side that he usually doesn't put on display for people. Silco always manages to make you melt with his voice; it's just so addicting and you could listen to him talk for hours

He loves it when run your fingers through his hair, whether purposefully or absentmindedly. He'll let you braid it (as long as you take it out when you're done) and brush it and stick wildflowers in it. It's an action that seems to ease the tension from his shoulders and relieves the worry from his mind. If it's late in the night, there is a strong possibility that he'll fall asleep within five minutes. You're really the only person that can calm him like that (Vander, Felicia, and Connell come close, but you are truly something special to him)

Speaking of falling asleep, Silco does like to be close to you in bed. He likes switching up who's holding onto who, after a hard day at work there are times where he prefers you to hold onto him. He loves falling asleep in each other's arms, but he especially loves waking up facing you, where he can see your eyes open first thing in the morning. Silco loves that you're the first thing he sees in the morning and the last thing he sees at night. He starts his day pressing a kiss to your lips and to him, it's heaven

Young Silco will do little things for you, like getting you a leather jacket to match his, always saves the seat next to him so you can sit there, pours you a drink at the bar before you even show up. He is a very busy man with work in the mines and the organization of the Children of Zaun, but he will always try to make time for you. Sometimes he will leave you little notes if he knows he'll be home late (and he always signs them off as "Your Silco")

Quiet nights are just as lovely with young Silco. He spends time studying maps or reading or scribbling down ideas. You will always catch him glancing at you, usually with a soft smile on his face. He is able to let his guard down and just be in front of you, which is not common in Zaun

Young Silco loves showing you how much you mean to him, and he will always be willing to remind you. You are his best friend and his partner

•

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #silco #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #silco headcanons #young silco #young silco x reader #young silco x you #young silco headcanons #arcane headcanons

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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I have a request!! Could you write something about it being Cregan’s birthday but he forgets that it’s his birthday. Like it starts with little things like the kids bringing him breakfast in bed and he is thinking “how odd” but doesn’t mind it, sometime later he’s listening to some concerns from the locals and his daughter just runs up and sits on his lap and gives him a flower and a kiss on his cheek before jumping down and running away. Basically his wife and children are doing little things for him throughout the day and the day ends with a cute surprise dinner, his son manages to snag Ice or tells him something is happening in the main hall and he needs to go quickly but he gets there in the main hall and is surprised with some people of the North and his wife and kids and they have a nice small feast together. After the dinner they have a cute family hug and he thanks them. Please and thank you!

Valyrian Bride (nameday)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Cregan notices his wife and children doing strange (well, stranger then usual) things for him throughout the day.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: I've blended in your request with this series. I hope you don't mind, dear anon. ☺️

- Previous part: dragon's bath

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Cregan Stark woke to the scent of fresh bread and something sweet. Groggy from a late night spent discussing strategies with his bannermen, he blinked his eyes open, feeling unusually warm. The early morning light filtered into the chambers, and as his vision adjusted, he found himself staring at an odd sight—his children standing by the side of the bed, balancing trays full of food, their faces lit with excitement.

“Good morning, Papa!” his daughter chirped, her silver-gold hair falling around her face as she held a tray of honeyed bread and eggs.

His son, holding a pitcher of steaming tea with a grin that was a little too mischievous, echoed, “Happy morning, Father!”

Cregan blinked again, sitting up slowly. His brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s this, then?”

“We brought you breakfast in bed,” his daughter announced proudly, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. She carefully set the tray on his lap, beaming.

His son plopped down on the edge of the bed, handing him a cup of tea. “And we didn’t even burn anything!”

Cregan accepted the cup with a bemused look, glancing from one child to the other. “Aye, and I appreciate it,” he said, taking a sip of the tea, which, to his surprise, was perfectly brewed. “But what’s the occasion?”

The siblings exchanged a quick glance, then shrugged in unison, far too casually for Cregan’s liking. “No occasion!” they said, practically in chorus.

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to press further. Children had their whims, after all, and if today’s whim involved breakfast in bed, he wasn’t going to complain. Still, something tugged at the back of his mind as he tucked into the meal. There was a familiarity to the kindness, a sense of something he should be remembering, but it slipped just out of reach.

“Right,” he muttered, shaking his head as children began chattering about their plans for the day. “Odd, but… I’ll take it.”

Later that morning, Cregan found himself in the courtyard, listening to the concerns of one of the local farmers who was having trouble with the wolves getting too close to his sheep. As usual, Cregan was methodical, going over possible solutions, but as he was deep in thought, something small and swift barreled toward him.

His daughter.

She darted up to him, completely ignoring the fact that he was in the middle of a conversation, and, without a word, climbed into his lap as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Cregan blinked, startled by her sudden appearance.

“Papa!” she said brightly, brandishing a small, wildflower. She placed it delicately in his hand, then leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “For you!”

And with that, she jumped down and scampered off, leaving Cregan holding the flower, thoroughly perplexed. The farmer stared at him, eyebrows raised, but Cregan could only offer a sheepish grin as he tucked the flower into his pocket.

“How… odd,” he muttered under his breath again, but a smile tugged at his lips. The day was starting to feel more and more unusual, but he had work to do, and so he carried on.

The afternoon brought more strange little moments. His wife seemed to be uncharacteristically affectionate, brushing her hand along his arm as they passed one another in the hall, pressing a kiss to his temple when no one was looking. At one point, she even slipped him a small note during lunch, which simply read, “Tonight, you’ll see.”

Cregan narrowed his eyes at her, but she just smiled in that secretive way of hers, leaving him both intrigued and slightly wary. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put it together.

And then, just as the sun began to set, his son burst into his study, eyes wide and breathless with excitement. “Father!” he said, grabbing Cregan’s arm and tugging. “You need to come to the main hall. Quickly!”

Cregan stood, frowning. “Why? What’s happened?”

“It’s important! Hurry!” the boy insisted, already half-dragging him toward the door. Cregan, still baffled but curious now, allowed himself to be pulled along.

As they made their way through the corridors, Cregan’s brow furrowed deeper. Something was definitely going on. The halls were suspiciously quiet, and the usual activity of the castle seemed to have hushed as if Winterfell itself was holding its breath. His son glanced back at him every so often, grinning like a cat that had caught a mouse, but gave no further explanation.

When they reached the main hall, Cregan pushed the heavy wooden door open, and—

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices filled the air, followed by the sound of clapping and cheers.

Cregan stood frozen in the doorway, staring in disbelief. The great hall was filled with familiar faces—his bannermen, the local farmers, his closest friends and family. Long tables had been laid out, piled high with food and drink, the hearth was roaring, and banners adorned the walls in celebration.

And at the head of the table stood his wife, smiling warmly, with their children flanking her on either side.

Cregan blinked, completely taken aback. ��What in the—”

“Happy nameday, my love,” his wife said, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and the realization finally hit him.

His nameday.

Of course.

Cregan let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head. “I forgot, Y/N.”

“We know,” she teased, laughing as she pulled him into the hall. “That’s why we had to remind you in the most obvious way possible.”

He glanced around the hall, at all the people gathered there—the people of the North, his family, his friends—and felt a deep warmth fill his chest. “You’ve all been plotting this the whole day, haven’t you?”

His son puffed out his chest. “Of course! Did you like your breakfast?”

“And the flower?” his daughter chimed in, skipping over to tug on his hand.

Cregan laughed, pulling his children into a tight embrace. “Aye, I should’ve known something was going on.”

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and feasting. Cregan sat at the head of the table with his family by his side, enjoying the small but heartfelt celebration. The food was simple but delicious, the company warm and lively, and as the fire crackled and the stars began to twinkle in the sky outside, Cregan realized just how blessed he was.

After the meal, his children ran to him, wrapping their arms around his legs. His wife joined in, placing her hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with affection. They stood together for a moment in a quiet, perfect family hug, the warmth of the day filling the space between them.

Cregan looked down at his children, then up at his wife, and felt a smile spread across his face, one of pure, unfiltered contentment. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “All of you.”

His wife pressed another kiss to his cheek. “You deserve it.”

And as the fire burned low and the night deepened, Cregan knew he’d remember this nameday not for the gifts or the feast, but for the love that surrounded him—the love of his wife, his children, and his people.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan x y/n #cregan x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hotd cregan

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pitchsidestories · 4 months ago

Text

for the girls II Kika Nazareth x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1347

a/n: dear readers, this is for the girls..and for the anon who asked if we'd write another Kika fanfic. 💜❤️

“Chicas, you haven’t. told us about your Portugal trip yet!”, Mapi clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

It was the dinner night after a big game at the team’s favourite restaurant. Far away from the buzzy and touristy La Rambla, in one of the less busy neighbourhoods where you football players could eat and yap in peace. In this minute the candles were lit by the waiters and turned everything into a warm glow.

“True, did you two enjoy it? Were you girls surfing? The water must be cold by now.”, Ellie mused with a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

“We did. And it was amazing.”, Kika affirmed.

“Yes, we’ll go there again over the Christmas break. The waves were the best I’ve ever ride on.”, you enthused thrilled.

“You two went surfing?!”, Alexia gasped outraged by your recklessness.

“Yeah?”, the Portuguese forward cleared her throat nervously.

“It was super fun, Ale.”, you replied nonchalantly, slightly annoyed by the older Spaniards mothering, for some time her overprotective side always came through when it came to you.

“Can’t you do something less dangerous?”, Alexia sighed.

“We had everything in control.”, you tried to assure the midfielder.

“Still. In the middle of the season.”, she pouted.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t spend too much time on the water anyway.”, Kika intervened, smiling cheekily, holding your hand in hers.

“Kika.”, you exclaimed blushing deeply.

“That’s too much information.”, Mapi chuckled amused.

“Wait, what?!”, Alexia asked shocked.

“Stop acting like a mum.”, the Portuguese laughed.

“You’re lucky I’m not.”, your captain said through clenched teeth.

In your mind you reminisced about your trip to Portugal which felt like ages ago but was only a week prior. How could you explain to Alexia that every day spent with Kika felt as fresh as a summer’s day no matter the actual weather?

“I was faster than you, Kika!”, you grinned triumphantly, your feet had reached the sea water before your teammates.

“You started early!”, she shook her head heavy breathing.

“Lies.”, you countered smiling innocently.

“It’s true.”, the brunette insisted smirking.

“Whatever.”, you shrugged. What you didn’t plan was to get lost into your friends’ brown eyes. They’re so beautiful you thought to yourself.

“You know that friends don’t look at each other like this?”, Kika observed.

“Looking like what?”, you asked biting your lips anxiously.

“The way you look at me right now.”, the forward replied earnestly.

“I.. sorry.. I think.. I forgot something at the beach.”, you mumbled.

“Y/n..”

“Do you need something as well?”, you turned your head around to look into her eyes.

“No.”, she denied.

You nodded slowly: “Okay.“

“Okay.“, she replied.

There was nothing else to say so you waded out of the water, forcing your heart to stop hammering against your chest.

Kika joined you a bit later, both of you laying on your beach towels and letting the sun dry the water off your skin.

She never mentioned it again and as the day went on, you started to wonder if you had imagined the conversation you had earlier.

You stayed out at the beach to watch the sunset together but once night started to fall, the temperatures dropped and a slight breeze rolled in from the sea. Kika and you found shelter in the van you rented. It was just big enough for the two of you with a twin mattress in the back and a makeshift kitchen where you prepared a quick dinner for the two of you.

Parked a bit away from the actual beach, you had a perfect view at the waves but without heating, the van cooled down as quickly as the outside temperature.

“It’s getting kind of cold… Do you want me to get another blanket?”, you asked Kika who was, like you, sitting on the mattress with a thin blanket wrapped around herself.

“Uhm… sure.“, she nodded.

Wordlessly, you got up and pulled out another blanket.

“Here you go.“

“Come here, we can share this one.“, Kika decided as she unfolded it and gently placed it over both of your legs once you sat back down.

“Thanks. Who thought it would be this cold in our van at night?”, you asked while sucking in a breath.

Kika laughed: “Definitely not me.“

“Me neither. But now we know.“, you joined the laughter, shaking your head about how unprepared you both were.

“We do. Are you still cold?”, Kika asked while her eyes searched your face.

Your grip tightened around the edges of your blanket, a desperate attempt to keep your hands from shivering: “No…“

Kika clearly looked right through your lie. “Move over.“, she demanded.

You did as you were told while the football player moved closer, pulling you into her.

You cheeks started to burn which you chalked up to Kikas body heat.

“Why are you so hot?”, you laughed.

“I’m Portuguese.“, she replied plainly, shrugging.

“Of course.“

“That must be it.“, she grinned.

“Appreciate the heat though.“, you answered, finally laying down. Kika did the same, never letting go of you.

For the shortest moment, you thought you would both fall asleep until you could feel the football player stir close to you. Her chest was so close to yours that you could essentially feel her rapid heartbeat against your ribcage.

“Why are you so nervous? Can’t you sleep?“

“I..no. There’s something else I’d like to do.”, Kika admitted quietly in the dark.

“What’d you like to do?”, you asked her nervously.

“I’d like to kiss you.”, the forward confessed.

“What about the being friends talk from earlier?”, you raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what about we stop being friends and start dating.”, she suggested boldly.

“You mean like Marta and Caro, Mapi and Ingrid.”, you began listing the couples in the team with your fingers.

“Yes.”

“I like that. So, you didn’t mind when I glanced at you earlier.”, you realized.

“No, not at all.”, Kika insisted.

“I want to kiss you too.”, you smiled sheepishly at her.

“When what are you waiting for.”, the brunette chuckled.

You didn’t need more than this, you left a featherlight kiss on her lips. “Do you want more?”, you gave her a challenging look.

“Please.”, she responded promptly. Now it was Kika who entangled you in a kiss. The Portuguese tasted like never-ending summer; the warmth spread through your whole body chasing the cold away.

“Wait, so you’re together now?”, Keira’s question brought you back to the present evening.

“Jep, we’re.”, Kika confirmed with a proud grin on her lips.

“If you hurt y/n, Kika…”, Alexia warned her.

“Stop, Ale. You’re neither my mami nor my big sister.”, you interrupted the captain annoyed.

“I promise I’ll not hurt her. I couldn’t be happier.”, your girlfriend declared solemnly.

“Good.”, the blonde nodded satisfied.

“You can calm down now.”, you rolled your eyes at her.

“We should order another round of drinks.”, Mapi suggested enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Kika waited until everyone had a newly filled glass in their hands to toast. “Cheers to the power of love and friendship.”

“To another Barca couple.”, the defender from Zaragoza added smirking.

“You look like a proud aunt.”, Ingrid observed smiling.

“I feel like one.”, Mapi acknowledged, resting her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

The rest of the evening was a joyful time with teammates who become friends and some of them lovers.

“And that’s a wrap.”, your girlfriend confirmed once she took a mirror selfie which had the whole team in it.

Slowly each of the women went down a different road which would lead them home so by the end of your walk it was only Kika and you walking hand in hand through the streets which were lit by the lamplights.

“That was nice.”, you hummed.

“Agreed, come on time to go home, meu amor.”, she replied. At the end of the road, you both knew that your place was waiting for you.

“I’m coming.”, you told her, almost running now, because you couldn’t wait to be in the four walls you called your home now with the woman you loved.

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bokunoheros · 4 months ago

Text

˚࿔ BODILY FORCE | KINKTOBER 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🪲 authors note:// hi guys… sorry this is shameful, happy kinktober! also, this is my first time participating in kinktober fr fr… dear anon that requested this, i hope i have fed you well.

topics discussed and warnings:// BDSM RELATION SHIPS, overstimulation, forced orgasm, obviously smut, aftercare, readers gender is not specified but i do use female anatomical terms and clothing descriptions, i use pet names too much, hand jobs, use of a fleshlight lol, gagging, crying during sex, praise, come eating, sub!izuku, softdom!reader, this is prohero!izuku btw, MOMMY/MAMA KINK, sorry not sorry!

word count:// 800 something

ᯓ heed the warnings laid before you, your media consumption is your responsibility! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

every WORD under this cut is R-RATED— respect my wishes upon interacting.

𝜗𝜚 edited and proof read by the lovely calius .ᐟ xoxo

✎ᝰ He’s so desperate to touch you, to keep a hand on your thigh so he doesn’t feel like he’s constantly falling. “Ah-uh,” you gently reprimand him as he tries to reach for your thigh. Izuku winces at your voice, rolling his head back into the pillow as he balls his fists into the sheets.

“Fuck,” he whines, writhing under your relentless pace.

“Watch your mouth,” you hum at him, squeezing your hand around his base. He chokes out the most pitiful sob before he slaps his hand over his mouth. Silly boy.

You start to slow down your pace, slowly dragging the toy over his head before going back down. You can visibly watch his stomach flip, and he jerks his head up, lips parted as he watches you. Repeating these motions a few times as he watches, you slowly remove the toy from him, his poor cock slipping out with a twitch. Izuku winced, whining as you pulled away.

“Mm, no…” he reached out, but you were quick to pull away.

“Tsk-Tsk,” you suck your teeth, watching him retreat back. “Be patient, Izuku,” you cooed, flicking his bruised cock-head with your finger. He flinched, his muscular thighs tightening at the impact.

“I—I’m trying,” your sweet boy stuttered, “You're just so pretty, mama.”

You stuck out your bottom lip, “I know.” You sigh, lifting a hand to pet his cheek and Izuku melts into your palm, breathing deeply through his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut.

You ran your fingers over his tough chest, pinching one of his nipples with your long nails. He jerks, his eyes busting open as you roll his nipple between your fingers. Discarding the fleshlight towards the end of the bed, you straddle one of his strong thighs, leaning in to lick and tease at his nipples. He mewls under you, panting heavily through his mouth.

With one hand, you snake back between his legs, gently pumping his cock. Izuku tenses, but relaxes as you keep a gentle pace. You tease his head between your skilled fingers, the way you use your thumb to press gently onto his urethra driving him to tears as he shakes under you.

“Please, mommy,” he sobs, sniffling as tears begin to stain his cheeks. “Please let me come, please?” Your submissive begs, gritting his teeth as you fist the head of his swollen cock in your palm. “I’ve been so good, please please please—“ he cries your name like a mantra, writhing under you.

“Go on, cum for mama,” you whisper into his ear, keeping your utterly relentless pace against his cock alive. Izuku grits his teeth, moaning and crying, barely able to choke out two simple words:

“Cummminggggh— mama!” He tenses up, arching his back and throwing his head to the sky as he unraveled, shooting messy strands of his cum up his chest. You slowed down, watching as his cock spilled and spilled until the dribbling came to a stop.

Pausing your pumps, you kissed up his pecs, to his neck, and to his cheeks. Licking up his tears, his body relaxed in your false sense of security—

You were quick to lose your empathy for his strangled cock, as you started to palm-fuck him with the same pace as before. Your sub jerks up with a strangled cry:

“W—Wait! I can’t, not again mama—” He starts, before he’s inevitably snuffed out by you shoving four of your fingers into his mouth. Your sub gags around your fingers as you push them further into the back of his mouth, holding his tongue down as your digits tickle his esophagus. His knuckles turn white as he holds onto the sheets below him, struggling to contain his movements as you overwhelm his nervous system by milking another orgasm out of him. With one last tug of his bruised dick, he cums again, his body seizing as his cock expelled one last long rope of semen up his abdomen. You snatched your fingers out of his mouth, watching him gasp for breath like a fish out of water, coughing and drooling while he comes down from his forced high.

“There you go, atta boy…” you coo, wiping your drenched fingers on your bare thigh. You lean closer to his face as he takes deep breaths, grabbing at his skin as he does. “Are you okay?”

Izuku nods, choking out soft words, “I—I’m such a good boy, right mama?” you chuckle at his words as he drunkenly gazes up at you, using your index finger to gather up some of his semen on your finger, making him lick it off. “You’re my goodest boy, baby.” You lay down beside him, pulling him towards you, resting his head on your arm. You pet his hair, and rub his back, whispering praises in his ear.

“My sweet little boy,” you call to him, placing sweet kisses to his temple as you stroke the cheek opposite of your kisses. “Has mommy worn you out?”

“Mm… no,” Izuku lies, melting into your palm as he starts to drift off in your arms. You chuckle, petting his chest.

“Shhh, darling.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! if you wish to see more of me, ₊⊹

my carrd // kofi (tip me!)

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springtyme · 8 months ago

Note

🪐 Hi Sagie! I looove your baby fever fics with 141 and könig! I you have any hcs for them, like will they have more babies in the future? (I’m especially in love with the soap ones, you made the family scenario feel so real❤️)

I’m so happy to hear that you like those fics, they are some of my favourites I’ve written, and I’m especially happy to hear that you like the johnny one, cause I have actually thought about writing some for that specific version of him because I liked writing them so much. These are just some quick, random thoughts about how I think the future could look like for the guys and reader in the different scenarios. I might change it if I decide to write more about them in the future, though. But I had so much fun writing this, so thank you so much for the ask, dear anon! ♡

The fics this is based on: part one & part two

Ghost ♡

I don’t actually think that you and Simon will have more children after your daughter. She wasn’t planned, but she is so loved and cherished by both of you, and he is so extremely happy and grateful that it happened, being a family was something Simon never thought he would be allowed to experience, and he had always secretly wished for it, but he also has a lot of insecurities and anxieties about being a father. He wants to give your little girl all that he never had growing up. You and your daughter are absolutely everything to him, and the two of you have filled the hole that had been gnawing at his heart for so, so long. He doesn’t need more, he is complete now. One kid, one fur baby, and having found the love of his life is all he needs to be happy and content. I also think that he is also very aware about how demanding his job is and the fact that he often is gone and has to leave for weeks at a time, leaving you back home alone so only having one kid to look after when he is not there to help, makes things more manageable for you and I think that is something he would value highly, not wanting to leave you overwhelmed and stretched thin. And he is so, so grateful for you and all that you do for your family.

Price ♡

Again, I don’t think you and John are going to have more kids, just like Simon he is very aware of the demands of his job, despite the decision of retiring from fieldwork after you had your son, he is still often away on base and works long hours, plus he also isn’t as young as he has been anymore. He values the time he gets to spend with you and your son, and he loves the family dynamic you all have. He loves being present and active in your son’s life, and he wants to make sure he can give him all the love and attention he deserves. You and John have built a beautiful life together, and he is so grateful for everything you’ve given him, and he makes sure you’re always taking care of. John values quality time with you and your boy extremely highly, he never misses a single football game, school event, or milestone, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with the two of you.

Gaz ♡

So, you and Kyle will stay in your flat for the first three years of your son’s life until you move to something bigger, after finding out that you are expecting your second child. It is a lovely, little semi-detached house, with garden to three sides and here you welcome your second baby, a little girl this time. Kyle is absolutely over the moon with the idea of expanding your little family, and he can’t wait to give your son a sister to look out for. Kyle absolutely loves being a father and is so grateful for the life you have built together. He is so excited for this next chapter in your lives, it is something he has been excited for almost since he first met you. Kyle is a very hands-on dad, always eager to help out with the kids and make sure you have some time for yourself and he makes a big deal out of having quality time with both kids and making sure they both feel loved and cherished. He is so proud and grateful for the family you have created together.

Soap ♡

Okay, it all started out with a comment about how you and Johnny had to balance out all the boys in his family and you did. Johnny becomes the ultimate girl dad. You end up with three girls who are around three years apart from each other. He loves being surrounded by his girls and is so grateful for the special bond he has with each of them. He is always there to support and protect them, and he cherishes every moment he gets to spend with them. His family absolutely adores you all, and he is so thankful for the love and happiness you have brought into his life. (Your oldest daughter’s middle name is Teresa after Johnny’s mother, but when you had your second girl there was no doubt between you and Johnny about what hers was going to be; Maighread.)

König ♡

So, I kind of see two scenarios for this one.

The pregnancy with the twins was pretty hard on poor mama, having to carry an absolute unit of a man's children and all, so I could kind of see you not having more after that. It was always your plan to have 2-3 kids, so when the twins turned out to be a boy and a girl it kind of just seemed perfect and complete with a family of four.

But I could also see the twins being two boys though. Two chunky, happy babies who turn into a pair of cheeky, energetic toddlers, running around together, causing chaos and laughter wherever they go. And even though they are fraternal, they look a lot alike, both a spitting image of their father, despite having inherited your eyes, but their faces are still all König, from the way they scrunch their nose to the dimples on their cheeks when they smile. They are a handful and keep you on your toes, but they are also the sweetest and most loving little boys. It is a few months before the boy’s seventh birthday when you and König start to think about maybe expanding your family again. And it’s only a few weeks after their birthday that you find out that you are pregnant again. The pregnancy is much easier this time around, König still creating a chunk of a kid, but this time you’re only having one. And this time it is a little girl who instantly steals the hearts of her father and big brothers. The twins dote on her, constantly showering her with love and attention, always looking out for her and making sure she is safe. And König is absolutely wrapped around her tiny finger, and truly a sight for sore eyes to see the giant man doting over his little princess.

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muzansfangs · 2 years ago

Text

Coitus interrupted.

Starring: Kokushibo x f!reader; Muzan x f!reader (separetely).

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (reader receiving), language, breeding kink, mention to pregnacy (Muzan’s part), dirty talk, hair pulling, creampie

Format: short imagines.

Plot: you and your boyfriend were having a steamy make out session, but one thing leads to another and you found yourselves moaning each others name. Everything was great, until someone interrupted you. Will it kill the mood, or ignite a devious spark within them?

Author note: Dear anon, I have lost your message, but here we are! I hope you’re going to enjoy this! And, honestly, if something like that ever happened to me, I’d die of embarrassment. Oh, wait, it kind of happened once -.-“

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Muzan Kibutsuji.

Nights like this, when he came back from his business trips and his hunger for you had skyrocketed throughout the week, mind fuzzy for the hours spent in yearning for your touch, were the best ones. You knew he did not hold back.

Eyes clouded over in lust, he had discarded his briefcase carelessly on the couch and marched towards you, who were staring at him in adoration just a few feet away from him. You did not have time to greet him properly, his lips harshly captured yours in a fervent kiss. His hand slided behind your neck, tilting your head to the side for granting him a better access to your mouth.

After a couple of minutes, he pulled back to catch his breath and pressed his forehead against yours “Yes, I have missed you. – he breathed out, pushing you against the wall, careful to shield your nape from the impact by securing his hand on the back of your head – I am sorry, love, but I can’t wait” he purred, burying his mouth onto the crook of your neck and nibbling at the tender flesh in search for your sweet spot.

A series of throaty moans left your parted lips, your fingers tangling into his dark locks, as you hoisted your leg over his hip to pull him closer to you “Someone’s hungry, I see” you whispered, biting your lower lip as one of his hand slipped between you two to work on unbluckling his belt. Muzan grinned, his plum red eyes boring into yours as he finally got to unzip his trousers.

“I am so sorry for your cunt, darlin’, but my cock is begging me to let it ruin you – he uttered, hiking your skirt up to expose your clothed core and hastily pushing your panties to the side – Scream for me” he said, a devious smirk crossing his face as he freed his bulge from his tight boxer and dragged it up and down your wet folds.

Your hands gripped his firm biceps as you nodded your head at him, eager to finally welcome his shaft back between your warm walls. He did not need anything else, the pleading look in your eyes was enough to make him understand how badly you wanted it. With a quick, deep thrust he entered you. You cupped his smooth cheeks between your hands and moaned into his mouth, as he bottomed out.

“Fuck— All those years of fucking and you’re still as tight as the first time I fucked your little cunt” he hissed, his hips snapping up with deep and harsh thrust.

You moaned again, mind already fuzzy as your half-lidded eyes stared at an indefinite point behind his back. It was right in the middle of your steamy reaunion, lost into your ecstasy, that you thought you were allucinating, when you spotted a tall figure on the threshold. You squinted and you finally recognized him.

“Fuck, Kokushibo!” you squeaked out panicking, only to make Muzan freeze solid. What the hell did you just say? Were you screaming another man’s name, while climaxing around him? Did you cheat on him?

His blood ran cold as his hand grasped your jaw roughly and his plum red pinned you on the spot “What the fuck did you say, love? What’s with Kokushibo? Did he f—” he started, his voice dropping of a few octaves in a threatening tone.

“Kokushibo’s here, Muzan! Turn around!” you cut him off, cheeks flushing up in embarrassment as your husband processed what you had just said. He whipped his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder, and he saw his coworker staring at his feet uncomfortably.

Muzan sighed, his irritation fading away instantly as he nodded his head at tall man who had interrupted your reunion “What’s the matter?” he flatly asked, as you hid your face onto his chest in shame. You wanted to disappear, let the floor swallow you, but it was impossible and you were forced to stay still and witness to your worst nightmare.

Kokushibo cleared his throat, showing a phone to Muzan, before settling it on the nearest coffee table “Y-You had forgotten your phone in my car, I… See you tomorrow” the poor man stammered, blushing and stumbling towards the front door to make his getaway from the crime scene.

“Wanna stay for the show? Have you heard how delightful her moans are? – Muzan teased you and his coworker, giving you a hursh thrust to make you squeal out in pleasure – Damn, I’mma fuck a baby into you tonight” he hoarsely said, turning his head back towards you and ignoring the fact that Kokushibo had not wasted any more precious time to leave your house.

“M-Muzan, please…” you whined, staring up at him bashfully.

He chortled, picking you up and walking towards the couch, dropping you onto it and helping you to get on all four “Beg all you want, darling. I am a little bit upset you know? For a second, I had thought you had cheated on him with him. – he said through gritted teeth, grabbing a fist of your hair and forcing you to arch your back for him – Consider this my payback” he added, before shoving his length into you again.

And, dear God, he lasted for hours and, maybe, he really got you pregnant that night.

Kokushibo.

You were sitting on Kokushibo’s lap, wearing nothing but your panties and one of his oversized t-shirts, as you watched a movie at this place. The summer heat was too intense to go out and you had thought that, staying over and cuddling with the help of the cool the air-conditioner, was a good idea. Additionally, Yoriichi would have not come back until later in the evening and it was your chance to finally have some privacy with your boyfriend.

You were fidgeting with your bracelet absent-mindedly, when it slipped your fingers and landed underneath the coffee table at your feet.

You were still focused on the screen, not really paying much attention to your boyfriend, when you climbed down from his lap and bent to the floor to reach it. Unfortunately, you had to stretch your arm a little more to get it and you were forced to slither down until your chest grazed the carpet and your ass was held up by the pose you had struck, exposing it at the vicious maroon eyes of the Tsugikuni twin.

You had finally grasped your silvery bracelet, when you yelped out in surprise at the sudden smack on your arse. You blushed, glancing over your shoulder to shoot an interrogative look at your boyfriend “What was that?” you asked him, arching an eyebrow up as you slowly stood up.

He did not reply at first, he sighed and simply grabbed the remote, turning off the tv. You knew something was on his mind by the way he was taking his time in pondering what to do. You cocked your head to the side, sitting down beside him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you whispered, resting your chin on the top of his shoulder as you waited for him to open up and speak his thoughts.

“Sit on my face… – he blurted down then, placing his large hand on your thigh and giving it a firm squeeze – Please” he added shortly, sending shivers down your spine. His tone was serious, his eyes sparkling with a malicious glint that only revealed what he had in store for you. You blushed as his hand travelled up your leg, until he reached the hem of your panties. You knew exactly what you had to do. Kokushibo praised you day and night and was not a selfish man seeking only his ultimate pleasure. However, when it came down to giving head, he was definitely prone to be a receiver, not a giver and you would have been damned, if you were going to lose your chance to enjoy a good oral session.

Therefore, you stood up, watching your boyfriend laying on his back, moistening his lips in anticipation. You did not waste time in getting rid of your panties and, with Kokushibo’s help, you straddled his face. Once your heat was right above his mouth, you felt his tongue licking a stripe down your folds, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hands gripped your legs, caging you into this position, enjoying the way you squirmed above him with every flick of his tongue.

“Koku— Argh, please, don’t stop” you cried out, lolling your head back in ecstasy as he sucked on your throbbing clitoris.

You were so lost into the realm of pleasure, eyes closed as you neared your climax, that you had not noticed your brother-in-law staring at you riding his brother’s face. You moaned, arching your back as your orgasm engulfed your stomach, causing the shy twin to drop his packets in shock.

Your eyes snapped open, shrieking in fear, as you quickly tried to pull the shirt down to cover your pussy from the other twin’s eyes “Yoriichi! Gosh! Don’t stand here!” you yelled, hopping down from the couch and from of your boyfriend’s face. Kokushibo was absolutely shocked, face beet red as he wiped away your juices coating his chin with the back of his hand.

“I think I’ve forgotten to… buy something” Yoriichi commented, leaving the living room in a nick of time.

Your boyfriend, naturally, did not recover from the traumatic event he had just experienced. He would have never forgotten Yoriichi’s face staring at you two judgementally. From that day on, you two only made love in your house, safe from Yoriichi’s eyes.

Dt: @doumaslotus @doumadono @tired-writer04 @astrasolitaris @koyuki-the-flower my lovely icons❤️

#muzan x reader #kokushibo x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x y/n #michikatsu tsugikuni #michikatsu x reader #demon slayer smut #muzan smut #kokushibo smut #kibutsuji muzan x reader

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hivemuthur · 28 days ago

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Can u request something with modern au with viktor where there’s an established relationship between reader and him and readers an artist? You can write whatever you want whether it’s dating hcs , fluff, nsfw !!

Dear Anon, I took the liberty and added a small, but significant detail to this request - the Reader is visually impaired. It is not implied why, as it wasn't relevant to the one shot, but you can imagine their vision to be compromised to the point of having to use a walking cane and being able to only recognize shapes/shadows. The picture for it is Hephaestus, as he is the godly representation of Viktor for me, just read about him. Having said that, here is: Hand of the Beholder

viktorxgn!reader mature! some suggestive content, Reader has a sight disability, Viktor is their muse :') A small fic, in which Viktor discovers that softness feels nice.

edit/author's note: I treat Elliott as a gn name in general (I might be wrong, but well). And Bono the dog's name - it's a reference to a pin Sinead O'Connor was wearing during one of her interviews after she had met Bono. It said Bono in short legs shock! and I think it's hilarious :)

word count: 3,3K

—

A loud thump, followed by the clatter of something wooden on the pavement. Then, “Are you blind?”—a voice exclaimed with utter irritation, one very familiar to you—followed by a gasp. You always loved that part.

“Partially. Getting there,” you replied, flashing a sweet smile in the direction of the voice. Kill them with kindness—that was the usual strategy.

What was odd was that the voice—and the vague shape you assumed was its owner—didn’t move from the spot where your clumsy dog had knocked them. Either you’d made an astonishing first impression, or they were too stunned to move.

“Forgive me, I—I am usually less… rude.”

“That’s alright, no need to beg for forgiveness on your knees,” you said, offering a more genuine smile. “I’m sorry about Bono; he’s a bit awkward in crowds.”

“This is embarrassing, but I might need your help getting up,” the voice admitted, followed by an awkward chuckle.

Once he accepted your hand and scrambled to his feet, he kept hold of your palm just long enough to give it a quick shake. “Thank you. I’m Viktor.”

You almost introduced yourself when your friend Elliott emerged from whatever pound shop she had left you in front of. “Oh God, this dog! He’s going to get you killed one day,” she huffed, grabbing the leash from your hand.

“Bono. So… are you a U2 fan?” Viktor asked. Smooth, Viktor. Very smooth. He felt his face twist in cringe but decided to own it, smoothing his clothes with his hands to distract himself.

“Ah, definitely not. But I’ve been told he has short legs, so there it is,” you replied with a chuckle, crouching to give Bono a pet and a treat. The dog licked your face in return, and you groaned in mock offense.

“Alright, is everyone fine? Can we get moving?” Elliott pressed, clearly eager to move on. Her ‘just a second’ stop had already turned into twenty minutes of snooping through junk.

Viktor, utterly confused, felt words pushing their way out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Or, I could buy you a coffee? For the inconvenience? If… you’re not busy?” His voice rose slightly with each question, and again, he decided to own it by gulping down on this weird lump in his mouth and producing a smile.

“I feel like I should be the one buying you a coffee, Viktor. But yes, sure,” you replied casually, though truthfully, you just wanted to hear that warm, accented voice for a little longer.

Later, at the café, Viktor found himself absolutely baffled by your bluntness and the merciless jokes you’d thrown in his direction. He wondered where the hell his sass had gone. His legs were continuously bumped by Bono, who had clearly taken a liking to him and wouldn’t stop drooling onto his lap. When Viktor tried to joke about service dogs, usually more collected, he learned that Bono was, in fact, just a dog, and his only service was being a good boy.

Everything about this was so surreal and unlikely that his curious mind wouldn’t let him not ask you out again.

And this was how you met, two years ago, give or take. Two three-legged creatures connected by another, four-legged one, whose short legs seemed to give him matchmaking superpowers.

What had been the strangest feeling in the world for Viktor was being seen in a way he had never been seen before. Without a single question about his looks, without prying touches or purposeful exploration, you had managed to put together all the pieces that made him who he was. And suddenly, his cane didn’t matter, the way others looked at him didn’t matter. What mattered was the warmth of his hands, the tone of his voice, the feeling of soft jumpers, and his mind—the most brilliant thing you’d ever had the pleasure to explore.

And Bono got so many treats for it, his legs seemed even shorter as he grew fatter.

Which is why Viktor agreed to do something that, ordinarily, he would nervously laugh off before fleeing the country. His wobbly legs carried him to the sculpture workshop, late enough for it to be private and unoccupied.

Seeing you setting up the materials around an inconspicuous clay figure, he walked up to you from behind and draped himself over your back, his arms cradling your shoulders, palms connected at your sternum. You could feel his heart thundering against your spine and asked, “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” he murmured, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. “Is this me?”

“Not yet, for now it’s a dummy. Though, the frame was constructed to depict your figure,” you said quietly, placing your palm over his hands, your head leaning back to place a kiss on his temple. You could feel his scent filling your nose—clothes that are just clean and a faint smell of shampoo lingering in his hair.

“Is it empty inside?” he asked, and you only nodded, brushing your nose against his cheek.

“Hmm, philosophically ironic, don’t you think?”

“Love, if I were to sculpt your liver, I doubt this experiment would prove useful,” you chuckled, hearing Viktor let out a bemused huff. “Besides, it would be very heavy.”

“Pity. I’m sure my liver is magnificent,” Viktor tried to deflect, but his breath betrayed him. The room was unbelievably warm, and he could feel his hands starting to sweat.

“And where do you want me?”

“Right beside me. We’ll do a lying pose, with your hands on your chest. I’ll show you, roughly,” you said, your own nervousness beginning to grow as you realised this was probably far more intimate than anything you’d experienced together before. Suddenly, all the sex you’d had in strange places didn’t seem so insane.

After a short presentation and a couple of awkward chuckles, Viktor splayed himself on the couch beside you, while you sat down by the worktable. You needed to mark the key points of his body to keep the proportions intact, so the first obvious choice was his face.

You placed your hand on his cheek, and he hummed softly, relaxing into your touch. Your fingers traced the structure of his bones, his nose, eyelids, the curve of his mouth, assessing the distance between them with one hand and marking them on the dummy with the other. You couldn’t help yourself and exclaimed, “Oh Viktor, you are so beautiful! All this time and I had no idea.”

Viktor let out an uninhibited cackle and playfully bit your fingers. “There it is—superficial vanity. And here I was, hoping someone would finally love me for more than my looks,” he said in mock offence, making you bite your lower lip to stifle a laugh.

“Of course I do. But at least now I can say things like, ‘Thank God you’re pretty,’” you grinned at him mercilessly, and he laughed again. When the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, you took a deep breath and made sure once more. “Are you absolutely confident you’re up for this?”

“Positive,” he said firmly. “Should I—?” The unfinished question was answered by his hand landing on his shirt, pinching it expectantly—a force of habit stronger when his nerves showed.

“Just the torso for now. It’ll take a couple of sessions, I think. And after that, who knows? Maybe you’ll abandon me and become a world-famous model,” you mused, attempting to hide your own anxiety.

Viktor only huffed in response and obediently slid his shirt off. Taking your palm, he placed it flat against his chest. “For some reason, I feel very close to a heart attack, but I have a feeling you do too,” he said gently, the brave honesty in his voice completely disarming you.

You exhaled softly, leaning in to kiss him on the lips—a lingering, delicate gesture meant to reassure rather than ignite. “Thank you,” you murmured against his mouth, your voice warm and sincere. “Remember, we can stop at any moment. Just say the word.”

Viktor nodded, though words seemed to escape him now. His eyes followed your every move as you shifted closer, warming your palms by rubbing them against each other. You began your work, one hand ghosting over the sharp line of his jaw, the other placed on the dummy to mirror his shape.

Your touch was deliberate, slow, and almost reverent. Your fingers started at the hinge of his jaw, ghosting over the texture of his skin. Most of it was smooth, with the tiniest bit of grain, like a piece of glass worked by the sea over the years. You paused, mapping the angle where his jaw met his neck—the hardness of bone giving way to the flexible tendon beneath. You tapped on it delicately to test the bounce of his muscle—here his skin was silky, and firm and you could smell the faint scent of cream he applied after shaving. You gave it one more lingering touch, before moving to the earlobe, tracing it with your thumb, your fingers brushing against his hairline. Viktor let out a breathy exhale, and you smiled under your nose.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Mmm, you have no idea,” he hummed, placing his palm over yours instinctively. His hands were warm, and you could feel the heat radiating off his cheek onto your wrist.

You slid your hand toward the hollow beneath his cheekbone, pausing on the beauty mark under his eye to mark it on the dummy. It had a faint rise over the rest of his face, and you did your best to depict it’s shape. You could feel his cheek rising in a smile.

Moving to the slight curve of his lips, your fingertips lingered there for a moment longer than necessary. You pressed on the plushness of his mouth and felt Viktor leaning into your touch, his hot breath fanning your skin. Your finger trembled, when you found the tiny bump crowning his upper lip and Viktor pouted slightly, as if leaving a peck against your skin.

“Your bone structure is ridiculous,” you murmured absently, your voice hushed as though you were speaking to yourself, your fingers still pressed where they were.

Viktor’s throat worked as he swallowed, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm he was no longer in control of. “Ridiculous good or ridiculous bad?” he asked, his tone half-teasing, though the rasp in his voice betrayed how affected he was. You could feel the movement of his lips under your hand and a hot breath coming out, warming you up.

“Ridiculous perfect,” you replied simply, fighting your brain to focus on the clay in your right hand rather than on Viktor’s soft mouth under the mercy of your left.

You took a steadying breath and worked your way up to his brow, your thumb grazing the bushy ridge, your palm cradling the side of his face as you turned it slightly to study the other angle. You could make out the first wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the more prominent ones of his forehead, reinforced regularly by a thoughtful frown he wore so often.

His skin warmed under your touch, the heat blooming wherever your fingers roamed. Your other hand shaped the first layers of the structure of Viktor’s face in clay, its coolness a stark contrast to what your left one was going through.

As your hand slipped down to trace the lean column of his neck, Viktor couldn’t help the quiet exhale that escaped him. The feel of your fingers—gentle but firm, your nails just barely skimming over sensitive skin—caused him to tense up in places he didn’t expect himself to, not in this context. Your thumb and index finger examined his Adam’s apple, and it slipped away from your touch as he swallowed and chuckled awkwardly. The pulse in his neck quickened under your hand, and you paused for a moment, your lips curving in a soft, knowing smile.

“You’re doing great,” you whispered, your voice soothing, though you couldn’t help the subtle tone of praise he had granted you so many times when his hands travelled across your body with equal care. “Just breathe.”

“I am,” Viktor replied, his breath there, yet hitching as you moved to his collarbone, the tips of your fingers brushing the hollow above it before trailing the length of the bone. His skin prickled under your touch, and he found himself sinking further into the couch, his limbs loosening as if you had found a secret way to unlock him.

You kept working, holding on to your focus, but Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off you. The way your hands moved—deliberate, confident, as though you were committing every inch of him to memory—was so utterly erotic, so private. The soft furrow of concentration in your brow, the way your lips parted slightly as you worked, the occasional tilt of your head as you checked your progress against the clay—all of it was unbearably intimate, the dummy becoming a labour of love under your steady hand.

His own reaction caught him off guard. His breathing grew heavier, less controlled, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm he couldn’t mask. A flush crept up his neck, and he wondered if this was what you felt like when he had you pinned to the mattress.

You paused, brushing your thumb against the side of his throat. “You’re warm,” you remarked softly, tilting your head toward him. “Is this too much?”

Viktor smiled stupidly to himself, though his voice was low and rough. “Not at all. Just—unexpected.”

You chuckled lightly, your breath skimming his cheek as you leaned closer to reach the other side of his neck. “Unexpected— good or bad?” you asked, echoing his earlier words.

“Unexpected perfect,” he murmured, placing his hand over yours and craning his neck to kiss your jaw. It was utterly disarming—what it felt like to be touched for the sole purpose of being memorised.

You smiled to yourself as your hand moved lower, homing in on the flow of Viktor’s form. The tips of your fingers trailed down his chest, pausing to trace the curve of his clavicle before brushing over the flat planes of his sternum. You gave it a firm press, mechanically forcing out the breath Viktor had been holding. You could feel his heart thundering under your fingers, and it made you lick your lips. Here, his skin was thinner, more flexible, with a speckle of tiny bumps you knew to be his freckles.

Viktor exhaled under the pressure of your palm, and you could hear him chuckle nervously. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you allowed your hand to ghost over the defined ridges of his ribs, your fingers tracing just enough to make him shiver under the tickle. The motion was slow, deliberate, your palm spreading over the warmth of his chest as though mapping the heartbeat beneath.

“You’re tense,” you murmured, your eyebrows arching, cheeks rising in an involuntary smirk.

“I wonder why,” he replied, his voice softer now, laced with dry humour and vulnerability he judged was not worth hiding anymore. He felt himself slowly being disassembled to parts, the tiniest fractions of his being, each held to the light in the safety of your hands.

His cheeks were burning and his forehead dampening as you took your time, letting your hand move lower to the flat plane of his stomach. His muscles tensed instinctively, his tummy sucking in as if too shy to be touched, his body responding before his mind could catch up.

“Relax,” you coaxed, your voice as gentle as your touch, and he let out a quiet, shaky exhale as if obeying your command.

The curve of your fingers moved over his stomach to the sides, giving him a firm squeeze to follow your words. His breath steadied only for a moment before you slid your palm flat on the V-line of his underbelly, tracing the trail of hair disappearing under his trousers. Viktor let out a breathy moan, his spine flexing into your touch as he murmured an embarrassed, “Sorry,” the sound catching in his throat. His hands gripped the edge of the couch, his knuckles pale as he worked to steady himself. “I don’t believe I’ve been this flustered in years,” he laughed breathlessly.

“I shall make a mental note of that,” you whispered with a smile, and you could hear him chuckle again.

Your fingers continued their roam, brushing along the sharp lines of his hips, where the bone protruded just enough to catch the light. The fabric of his trousers shifted slightly under your fingertips, and Viktor shifted with it, a quiet gasp leaving him before he bit down on his lower lip.

The warmth beneath your hand grew, heat radiating from him in waves. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm, and his eyes—half-lidded and hazy—watched your every movement as if he couldn’t look away.

“You’re quite sensitive, you know,” you teased softly, the curve of a grin in your voice. You could feel the dummy slowly giving in, moulding into the shape of Viktor, his curves and sharp angles, as you mirrored each of your movements.

“Sensitive, am I?” he rasped, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. It was warm, pliant, as if every word came from somewhere deeper than his throat.

Your fingers brushed the ridge of his hipbone, and Viktor’s breath faltered again, his hands twitching as though he wasn’t sure whether to still them or reach for you. “You’re certainly proving it,” you replied, your voice low, tenderly teasing.

Viktor swallowed thickly, his head tilting back against the couch with a soft thud. “I think I need you to kiss me,” he murmured, his accent thickening as his restraint faltered further.

You chuckled quietly, withdrawing your hand but letting it rest lightly against his side. “Hmm. Do I have your consent?”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “W-what? I just asked you.”

“Well, I’d rather make sure. I am no Picasso. This was supposed to be professional; I will remind you,” you said, your feigned seriousness accentuated by taps of your finger against his belly.

Viktor’s eyes darkened slightly at that, his gaze dropping to your lips as he said in a pained voice, “Please don’t tell me you would touch anyone else like this, because I will lose my mind.”

You leaned back, your hands stilling for the first time. “I would never,” you whispered. You pulled out your clean hand to caress his cheek, but his arms were faster as he yanked you into a hungry kiss, smearing some of the cold clay on his chest.

Still holding you close, Viktor let out a soft laugh, running his fingers through his hair as if to ground himself. “I think I would be a terrible model,” he joked, though his voice carried the faint tremor of someone not quite recovered.

“I think you did wonderfully. And I’ve learned a thing or two,” you hummed, your lips finding his nose to place a peck on it. Which reminded you, “Oh. I forgot to trace your nose.”

“Shall I book an extra session for that?” He teased, his tone coming back to himself as his hands slid up and down your back.

“Definitely. Though I think this particular session we should move home. I am feeling very inspired.”

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #viktor x gn!reader #viktor fluff #viktor x reader fluff #requests

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fancyfeathers · 2 months ago

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Happy thanksgiving, I hope it is going well🦃

Thank you for responding to my other ask about the flinching around the batfamily. But now another question has popped up in my head, what if Daughter reader just randomly picks one of the "siblings" to cling onto for dear life. But it backfires for the sibling because uh oh! Daughter Reader met their friend and suddenly boom she has a crush on them. Example Maybe: Tim? (I love Tim he's my favorite lol.) Daughter Reader sees his "subtleness" in obsession or whatever he likes to call it😒 Reader is chilling with Tim, then KON walks in and she never whipped her head around so fast. (Obviously Tim notices.) Now not only is Tim (or any other sibling of the batfamily you'd like to use) is dealing with a clingy reader, now they're dealing with said reader constantly asking them about their friend and occasionally stealing their phone to stare at pictures of said friend. (She's a little creepy she's been cooped up in a manor for like a decade by now give her a break she's trying her best.) OR! When the batsibling's friend comes back over reader gives them a drawing she made of them Thank you reading have a lovely Day/Night! - 🐈‍⬛Anon

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling Masterlist

Ooooo this is giving me ideas

I did make Daughter!Darling younger than Damian so Kon might be a bit too old for her (or young… he was created in a lab, but that’s a whole other can of worms)

But this gave me an ideas for two scenarios that stem from this idea…

Taking the crush aspect out of this cause of age differences with the idea with Kon, like Tim brings him around to the house for the first time while Daughter!Darling is home from school or one of the many outings that Dick takes her on of his choosing. Connor is definitely friendly to her, Tim has definitely mentioned his little sister to him, how amazing she is, how adorable, how perfect-

She looks terrified when Damian came around looking for her, mentioning something about notes in class…

Then the second time he comes around to visit, he catches a glimpse of Bruce locking her bedroom door with her inside… who does that?

Then when he came around to see Tim and he walked into the living room and he saw his friends taking photos of her just sitting and doing schoolwork and she clearly looks uncomfortable.

He finds some excuse to have Tim leave the room so he can ask her…

“Are you okay?”

“N-no…”

He felt horrible for her, but he did not have anymore time to ask questions before Tim returned. Kon is not capable of taking care of a child but he knows people who definitely can.

It’s when she is at school and out on the swings alone, Damian scared away her friends again today and…

“Hello, mind if I sit by you?”

There is a man with glasses and a visitor’s pass that comes to speak with her and she lets him, he introduces himself as Clark Kent and he lets her connect the dots. He lets her know that she can speak freely and he is here to help her and just everything spills out with tears. Clark would be horrified by what he hears, this little girl is in danger and no one had cared enough to help her and-

“Hang on tight.”

There is just a quick moment before he picks her up and they are in the air with him taking her somewhere he’ll know she’ll be safe for now anyway, with his family.

He’ll explain things to Lois and Jon, but he is sure they will understand… they have to…

The other way I could see this scenario going is…

With the idea of when she starts having a boyfriend who is a member of the Court of Owls (I mentioned him in these posts, link, link, link, link)

But Damian would have probably have made friends to help with his cover, and of course there is the most perfect boy in school, talented, smart, kind, head of the student council, on many sports teams. Then when Damian began attending that school after Talia left him with Bruce, he was the one who was we so adamant about making him feel welcome, but of course it was a fake friendship on both sides. The boy had no real interest in being Damian’s friend, but he also needs to keep up his appearance.

He could honestly care less about Damian until when they come into his first period class and introduce a new student, Damian’s little sister and when the teacher asks for volunteers to show her around the classroom, his hand shoots up. Damian is fine enough with his friend to help his sister, he won’t get close-

That is until the end of the day when he sees her walking down the steps of the school with that boy, laughing and chatting with each other. It is fine, he is a family with a good reputation-

Then when he is supposed to come over for a school project for Damian’s and his science class, he is talking to his sister after they are done working and are waiting for his driver.

Then there is the time when they just went on summer break and she comes into Damian’s room and asks for the address of the boy’s summer home because they promised to write to each other and she had his address on her phone but she got it taken away since she would only need it to call the family and she-

Damian wants to pull out his hair more and more every time she mentions this boy. This goes on for years and into high school and it all comes to a boiling point where Damian catches them making out in the stairwell.

Oh my god he wants to kill them, wants to rip out his heart, wants to bang his head into the concrete over and over again. He restrains himself and only threatens him with some bruising and harsh words.

But after that nothing is the same.

His sister distances herself from Damian, he cuts off his friend, but then true colors begin to show to Damian, only Damian.

Like when he opens his locker and finds it defaced, threats, insults, and strangely enough a feather, like a signature, but to whom does it belong to?

The boy puts on his perfect facade and acts like he actually cares about Damian and as it he had nothing to do with it, but his laughter when he is talking to his group of friends just seems too loud, the kisses he shares with his sister are almost smug, and the perfect smile and the praise he receives from his teachers and classmates leaves a sour taste in Damian’s mouth.

He wished he had asked his father to have his sister homeschool.

#yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere justice league x reader #yandere justice league #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere batman #yandere batman x reader #yandere batfam #platonic yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batfamily #platonic yandere batfamily #platonic yandere dc #platonic yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake

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liveontelevision · 8 months ago

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Hello hello! If you are still taking requests I've been dying for an Alastor x reader where the reader was married to him when he was alive, and she outlives him quite a while before they reunite in hell, only for him to nearly die again when the angels attack. I love your work!

I've been wanting to do this prompt for a hot minute, sorry it took so long Anon :')

But here's a good long fluffy, angsty, fic to balance out how much of an ass Alastor is in Suffer lol

Curiosity Killed the Cat | Reader x Alastor

What caught your eye first, was how much whiskey he could down before losing his composure. You found yourself in awe, watching this charismatic stranger go round after round, only to end up on the dance floor with more energy than you had when you were sober. Truly a spectacle. Why don't you go tell him that?

"Excuse me-" You say in a sing-song voice, slipping by the stranger to beckon another drink your way. You may or may not have brushed your body against him in some sort of attempt to get his attention. It went unnoticed, but that's alright, that trick didn't usually work on the ones who had one too many drinks.

You decide the next best action is to sit at the seat next to him, despite there being multiple unoccupied stools at the bar. That’s something he has to question, right?

Of course not. You spent far too long trying to get his attention in any way, and he's either humming a song to himself or chatting with the plump, noisy, owner who would come by. They seemed to be close friends.. but she definitely wasn't his type. She looks like one to cause trouble.

You get a good scope of his character. He came in wearing a pristine trenchcoat, shielding an expensive-looking vest and tie combo. But, by now the tie had come undone and was draped across his neck. The heat of the whiskey might've gotten to him, he left his top few buttons precariously opened. You didn't mind that one bit. Next thing you spot; slightly messed hair and smudged glasses- bingo.

"Hey, birdy-" you finally muster some courage to get his attention. "-may I?" You pull out a handkerchief you usually have on hand, in case handsome strangers with glasses need a quick clean. It took you a good half hour to finally speak up, but he's looking you up and down as if you had just walked in. It takes a moment, but you see him finally decide you aren't a threat. He sits silently. Taking another swig of his drink, he looks at you with a smile. Does he want you to.. no harm in trying.

You bite at your lip, hesitantly reach out to his face, and carefully pluck the glasses from the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes as you do so. A man hasn't made you blush in quite some time. You decide to blame the drinks. Luckily, you have a task to keep your mind preoccupied. You're carefully swiping any smudges clear from the lenses when you hear his voice for the first time. Or so you thought.

"Mimzy, dear, do tell me who this little kitten here is. A regular?" You're assuming he's speaking about you, he's gesturing in your direction with his empty glass. The owner of the speak-easy, who you now know as Mimzy, trots behind the bar to top off his drink.

"For sure! What do ya say, kid, you're here.. on most weekends, ain't ya?" She turns to you, and you take a moment to confirm. You didn't think she'd notice, you don't come here that often. That's what you tell yourself at least.

"Got an eye on her tonight, Al? Sounds like someone's not goin' home alone~" She teases him with a quick jab, and he's quick to roll his eyes.

"Now now, she's been perched here for quite a while and has barely said a word to me, I doubt she's getting any more than a free drink." He sounds snarky, yet.. familiar..

"Al… as in Alastor? That radio host fellow? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn't expecting a celebrity such as yourself to frequent little joints like this one." You comment, finally joining the conversation. You hear a throat being cleared dramatically and turn to the owner behind the bar. You laugh nervously.

"Not that- it's still a good bar- I.. Sorry." Good recovery. Your attention is taken to the hand outstretched to you, and you instinctively lean away from it.

"Kitten-" He beckons his hand, and you follow his eyes to his glasses that were still in your grasp. You let yet another nervous laugh and quickly pass them over. He slips them on with a satisfied hum.

"If I remember correctly, Al-" you attempt to mock the nickname you picked up from Mimzy. "- You have a broadcast tomorrow morning, no? You really think drinking like a sailor tonight is the best idea?" You weren’t concerned, really. You wanted to tease him a bit longer.

"Props to you for knowing my schedule." You realize how strange that might've sounded and quickly finish your drink to prevent any more embarrassing thoughts from slipping from your lips. "Are you implying I can't handle my liquor, dear?" He scoffs, beckoning the bartender over. He has them refill your glass.

"I'm sure you can, birdy, but you've been pounding down more drinks than I can count." You respond. You weren't one to flirt effectively. That, or he just happens to see right through your nerves.

"So, you've been counting, hm?" You realize you had outed yourself to watching him all night. You curse yourself quietly, hoping the music filling the room will cover your frustration. "Appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I'm more than capable of doing my job. No matter the circumstances."

While he seemed to be reading you quite easily, you had picked a few things up yourself. For one, he watches everything. And he seems to only drop his intel when he needs to. Or to mock you. And two, he's a bit of a narcissist.. quite an ego on this one. But that could work in your favor tonight.

"Well, fine then. I'll be up bright and early to listen to your broadcast. I doubt you can get through it with a hangover. Especially considering how much you've been drinking." You state proudly. He lets out a chuckle, and despite how quiet it is, you can't help but appreciate his sultry laugh.

"Is that a challenge, kitten?" He purrs -ha- leaning his chin into his hand and slouching his body towards the bar.

"I mean if it is, there must be stakes." You say it as a matter of fact. "Let's say.. you cover my bill next time if I catch you slip up."

"Hm. Seems fair. You better be listening close, though, I'm very good at what I do." He enunciates his final sentence and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you consider this could be a bad idea.

"And when I win, what will be my prize?" He asks. You let out a little giggle at his cockiness.

"I'll tell you my name." He cocks his head to the side, an intrigue hitting him. Did he really manage to get this far without a proper introduction?

"I see your little detective game going on, I'll give you that. You are quite the observer. But you won't find my name just by looking." You say smugly. That's true for a number of reasons.

"I suppose you did leave that information out, hm?" He let's his eyes drop, as if he was trying to piece it together with what little information he had.

"I must say, you've got me hooked, kitten." He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and finishing off yet another drink.

"Deal?" You hum, holding your hand out to him. He smirks, taking it into his own, not expecting a firm shake, but receiving one. He went on to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

"Deal."

You went home alone after that night, but it was likely for the best. You were sure you'd see him next time, anyway.

Now that you had to tell him your name.

You thought for sure he'd at least stumble through a sentence, but no. He went through the entire show, even an interview with some big shot, and spoke perfect English. He talked like he'd never had a drop of booze his entire life and got a full night's sleep, which you both knew was far from the truth. You almost dreaded the next encounter, but at least you didn't wager anything too crazy. Sure, he'll see you differently after this, but if this were to go any further - what are you on about? You only met him once and listened to him on the radio occasionally at best. He's a perfect stranger to you. Let's not get too excited.

You find yourself seated in the same spot as before, shrinking into your seat and downing a few drinks to build your courage. You told him your mark. An awkward introduction, first and last name, made you feel like a new student at a children's school. He perks up, which is what you expected.

"Ah! So you're the famed physician! It's almost silly of you to call me a celebrity, you're the talk of the town, kitten." You groan, of course, he recognizes you. Everyone in this damned small town knows your name, your family.

You were one of the first women to complete their studies and practice medicine from your hometown. But to attend such high schooling in this time, your family had to be well off. And you were, in fact, well off. When it came to your love life, men were either disgusted by your pursuit of knowledge or took it like some fetish. You haven't approached anyone for years.. not like this, at least.

"You know, I spoke with your father a few-" You groan at the mention of him, cutting Alastor off mid-sentence.

"Don't be a fool, I heard the little interview on your show.. Can't say that was my favorite broadcast." Alastor had a certain segment where he would chat with some of the richer and more.. stuck up.. men in society. It wasn’t titled as such, you just noticed the trend of guests being pompous and wealthy. And your father was the perfect fit for that.

You didn't know this at the time, but Alastor was suddenly hit with some mixed emotions. There was more than one reason as to why your father was chosen to be on his broadcast. Alastor used his interviews to initiate close ties, and make powerful allies. If they weren't complying how he hoped, he would usually cut ties. Permanently.

Your father was definitely not a reasonable man, in fact, you made it a point to avoid him when you returned home. But did he deserve death?

"I didn't expect just the sight of me walking the streets to be as interesting as it is." You mumbled, leaning forward on the counter and drinking something much stronger than you expected. But the mentions of your father called for a hard hitter.

"You didn't?" He asked bluntly, twirling the liquor in his glass. You hum in agreement. Gossip spreads like wildfire here.

"Well, you've picked up some interesting feats. If you were hoping to go unseen, I would've put some more thought into my rags." He gestured to your clothing. It was definitely of higher quality, but it was something you were used to wearing while attending your school in a high-class city. You felt a bit embarrassed, placing your hands in your lap to subtly hide your body.

"And a beautiful doctor like yourself just 'walking the streets'? Some might be concerned for your safety." You tilt your head to the side at his words. Your confusion makes him smirk.

"I'm sure you're aware, kitten, but there seems to be a killer on the loose." He seems far too excited for the subject at hand, and it's almost noticeable.

"Hm. Guess I shouldn't be going out alone and talking to strange men, should I?" You say with a smile.

"I suppose you shouldn't." He shrugs off your words, getting another drink. You didn't even see him finish the previous one. "Though I must say, I'm glad you did. You've been quite the conversationalist." It's barely flirting, but it seems to leave you blushing a bit.

You went on to chat throughout the night, your drunken rambling turned to complaints about your father, and morbid details about what you'd learned in medical school. Both topics that you didn't realize intrigued Alastor to a personal extent. Later on, the rambles started to become incomprehensible. He decides it would be best for you to leave, considering you were refusing to do so and thoroughly embarrassing yourself in the process.

A giggling, stumbling mess, you were carefully lifted from your seat and brought to your feet with his assistance. He helped you out to the streetside, calling a taxi and bringing you into the backseat gently. He then went ahead and paid the driver, and turned at his heels to head back inside.

As he was reaching for the bar's door, a loud call forced him to turn back to the cab.

"Buddy, she's too sloshed to give me an address. You know where she lives?" Shit. Alastor looks to the bar’s door, then to the cab, where he spots you leaning your head against the window in the backseat. He sighs.

After insisting the driver keep the fair, Alastor brought you back out. He kept you standing with a hand on your lower back, as you gripped onto his shirt, far too small to reach your arm over his towering figure. He was cringing at the sight of his clothes becoming disheveled.

"Alright, kitten, where are you staying? I doubt you'd appreciate me taking you to your family home.." He was talking in a hushed voice, in the hopes that you'd have enough conscious to respond, but knew that likely wasn't the case. He looks around the area as if the answer would be in plain sight. He lets out a sigh of defeat when it clearly wasn't.

"Didn't even get to finish my drink.." He mumbles, pulling you closer to keep you stable enough to walk a few blocks.

There, sat a charming little motel. However, calling it charming was.. optimistic. Your memory, to this day, is in small flashes. Only certain things come to mind when trying to picture what went on.

You remember Alastor talking to the older gentleman at the desk. It seemed like they were acquaintances. Maybe they've done business in the past.

You remember him giving up after finding that the room he booked was on the second floor. Unwilling to deal with the staircase, he hoisted you up quite easily. You definitely remember that. How such a slender man can hold you in his arms with no strain.

You remember the room, it was cleaner than you expected. He seated you on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. He didn't seem to go much farther than that. He could've removed your entire wardrobe with your state of mind, and you'd be none the wiser. How awful it must be, to live in a world where a man not making a pass, surprises you.

As far as you know, you drifted to sleep almost right after. You're pretty sure he wrapped you in the blankets, and you remember the faint touch of hair being brushed from your face. His hand was far colder than you would have expected.

Being in your occupation, you don't exactly have time to confront all the horrific sights you've seen. So, your body deals with those emotions in other ways. A common occurrence, you were plagued with a number of night terrors. Something seems different in tonight's regularly scheduled program, though. A radio static overwhelms your senses, and any horrifying disfigurations that were taunting you seem to fade into nothing. A yellow grin and glowing red eyes are the last thing you can see.

You woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache, an ache in your stomach, and sore feet. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you barely care about the makeup that you'd smudged beyond repair. You try to recall your dreams, which usually stay vivid in your mind for most of the morning, but.. there's nothing. And despite the killer hangover, you feel more awake than you have in ages.

The panic settled in after you ran your hands across the unfamiliar sheets. With a soft gasp, you observe yourself. Still fully clothed, you spot your heels set next to the door. You look around the room next, and you almost feel relieved, seeing Alastor seated in a lounge chair in the corner of the room. He had his nose in a book. It was better than seeing him lying on the other side of the bed.. wait, was it?

You let out a pathetic little sound, your voice too weak to form any coherent words. He sets the book on his lap, and your sad attempt at a greeting seems to catch his attention.

"Good morning to you, too, kitten. Sleep well?" You were sure he drank as much as last night. If not, more. How dare he look so put together?

"Morning. I-um.. I suppose I did.. I-I hate to ask, but did... did we-" you stammer out, and he quickly holds his hands up in defense.

"Heavens no, dear, I wouldn't dare defile a woman who can't handle her whiskey." You scoff at his insult but still feel disarmed by his reaction.

"So then.. the motel room?" You question. He cocks his head to the side, only now realizing that your memory must've gone from the previous night.

"Ah, so you really can't handle your whiskey.. Well, not to fret, dear. You weren't telling me where you were staying, and Mimzy seemed keen on me taking you elsewhere." In actuality, she was trying to play matchmaker. Thanks for trying, Mimzy.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alastor, I hate that you bought a room just for me.. I can pay you back." You sit up, running your hands through your mess of hair and letting out a pained groan.

"I'm sure you can, but I simply can't accept." He stands, tucking the book under his arm and walking to your bedside. You swing your legs over the edge, only to notice how close he seems to hover over you. You look up and realize how statuesque he was. You hadn't seen him in daylight. And his height is much more intimating when he stands.

"It was my pleasure, getting to witness you thoroughly embarrass yourself." He bends at the hips, a taunting smile across his face. You try to recall anything embarrassing you might've done the night before, but you can barely recall a thing. That did little to ease your mind.

"You'll have to tell me about it one day." You grumble, standing with his assistance. He offered to escort you home, and you happily accepted.

The two of you stand on your small porch. It's a quaint duplex you've been renting, you go on about how how the family who lives here travels for the summer and was more than happy to offer their home to such a sweet thing.

"Well, since you insist that I can't handle my liquor, it might be a better idea to find each other.. somewhere other than a joint..." you say sheepishly, your eyes wandering to anywhere but his gaze. When he steps closer, you finally fix your wide eyes on him.

"You don't want me to court you, kitten. You're a lovely, educated, pretty little thing, you'll be wasting your time, unfortunately." He doesn't sound insulting, he says it very truthfully. It only makes you want to see more. To ask him to come in, and stick around awhile. But you're aware he has a broadcast coming up soon. You wonder if he would've stayed by your side if you slept through it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, getting coffee doesn't waste too much time." You decide to stand your ground. You aren't sure why he's refusing if he thinks all that of you. You see him look you up and down, then let out a sigh.

"Hm. I suppose. I'll be back here tomorrow morning since you're so insistent. Just remember I warned you-" He says playfully as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear!" He calls out before giving another heart-melting smile. You nervously bite your lip and watch him walk off through the cracked door. Like a damned puppy, you couldn't help but watch him walk off. You quickly shut the door, after realizing how hard you were smiling.

This was supposed to be for fun. You were just supposed to be some extra company on occasions. And he knew you came with your perks. You were an heir to a decent fortune, it only made sense for him to befriend you. You were knowledgeable and smart, he could definitely benefit from your skills if he needs to do so. There were plenty of ways Alastor could use you if necessary.

But with every little dance, every little coffee, or walk home from the bar, it was making him nervous. Of course, he would never call it that, he's too disgusted by the pangs in his chest he gets around you. Unfiltered, yet still delicate and professional. Incredibly intelligent, yet still makes the silliest mistakes. You were flawed. You came from such a slob of a man, and the fact that you are so kind despite that amazes him more than you realize. You are more than willing to stand for your beliefs. For one of the first times in his life, Alastor admired someone.

He's not sure what conversations led to him agreeing to cook yet another dinner in your home, but here he was; standing at your door with a bag of groceries.

"Oh- you didn't need to do all that, you're always free to use anything in the kitchen." You greet him as he comes inside, where he sets the bag at a nearby counter space. You reach up and pull his trenchcoat off his shoulders, which he willingly surrenders to. It was a little action you took, taking his coat for him when he would stop by. He's come to expect it. You hang it up on the rack nearby.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you have plenty to work with, but I'm following a special recipe tonight." He insisted, already unpacking things, setting up pots and pans, and rolling up his sleeves. He pulled an apron from the bag last, and the sight of him all prepped for cooking leaves you weak in the knees. You want to see this every night. You want him in your kitchen every mealtime. You shake the desires from your head, pushing aside the dreams of domesticity that have been plaguing your mind recently.

"Can I help with anything?" You chime in, peeking around the corner to smile at him through the doorway. He shakes his head.

"If you feel the need to help, you're more than welcome to get the table set, but I am quite in my element here, kitten. So, not to worry." You were mostly listening to him, but one part of you kept your focus on his skillful knife practice, watching him chop vegetables in a nearly professional manner.

"Kitten? The table?" His words and his moving on to something else snapped you from your funk.

"Oh! Of course, yes." You stumble a bit but do as he instructs. It wasn't anything special, but the space was more than enough to give the ambiance of a good date.

Damn, this man could cook. He's cooked for you before, but something you couldn't quite put a finger on left you swooning at the sight of the still-steaming gumbo in front of you.

"Damn, you can cook." You're muttering, between bites. You almost can't taste all its decadence, digging in before letting it fully cool.

"Slow down, dear, we have all night." He says softly, despite bringing a spoonful to his own lips. You catch yourself staring at the sight of him eating beside you, enthralled by his enthusiastic hums.

"So where did this come from? I'm a bit suspicious of the finery if I'm honest." You place your elbows on the table, perching your chin on top of your hands. He scoffs in response.

"How rude. All my meals are of the highest quality. I simply haven't made this in quite a while, I thought tonight would be a good time to do so." He replies.

"A recipe for special occasions, hm? Would you consider this.. a special occasion?" You tease, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. He looks confused, letting his eyes wander in thought for a moment. Was this a special occasion? Is there any specific reason he wanted to bring his own mother's recipe to some girl he's befriended? He pushes the thought aside, planning on mocking you like usual.

"Any night with you is plenty special, kitten." He hums, popping another spoonful into his mouth. He doesn't see your face turning red, but his oblivious flirting always leaves you flushed.

"In that case, when are you inviting me to your own home? I won't lie and say I'm not curious, Al." You set your finished plate aside and notice his eye twitch. You've been staring at him long enough to notice even his smallest ticks.

"Someday. I've a bit of a mess to go through before considering bringing any guests over." He brushes clean his already pristine top, as you stand and take his empty plate to the kitchen. With a sigh, you take yourself over to the sink to do a quick clean. It's the least you could do after such a lovely meal.

"If you say so." You try your best to sound calm, but you're slightly hurt by his constant rejection of letting you into his personal life. It wasn't all the time, but there were clearly things he refused to talk about. You want nothing more than to know him.

Lost in your mildly upsetting thoughts, you recklessly take one of his knives the wrong way, the blade slicing surprisingly easily down your finger. The shock takes you back more than the actual pain. These are far too nice for everyday cooking.

Letting out a quiet curse, you feel his hand brush over your own, his shadow casting over your entirety. "Such a clutz." You hear, his voice causing you to tense. You let him guide your hand under the water to rinse it, effectively caging you in place.

"Be careful, will you? These are my nicer tools." Interesting way to say it, but you were too focused on the fact that you could feel his breath heating the back of your neck. You simply nod, before turning the water off with your free hand. You turn your body around, leaning your back against the edge of the countertop and effectively facing Alastor. His hands stay planted on either side of you, making it a bit of a tight squeeze. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish here, but here you are. Neither of you seem to be moving away, though. He drops his head to look into your eyes. You're lost in them.

You reach your arms upwards, holding them around his neck as best you can, and you feel him willingly lean within your grasp. The moment is heated, you feel his breath against your lips as you pull him impossibly closer. His breath is quick, almost shaky. You've never seen this side of him. You'd never associate Alastor with the term nervous.

Nearly closing the gap, you feel a hand come to your throat and fingers gently holding your jaw. With a quick turn, he places a soft kiss on your cheek. It lingers for a moment, and even if it wasn't what you were expecting, you're gasping beneath his affection. The room seems to cool down for a moment. He steps away silently, pulling his things all together.

You may have made a mistake.

"Oh, Al- I'm sorry I didn't think.. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i-if that's what happened there." Your words quicken, suddenly becoming anxious that you may have upset him.

"No, don't fret." He waves his hand dismissively, his back still turned to you as he keeps himself busy with a bit of tidying. "I'd be an idiot to not expect that, eventually." He almost sounds insulting, a little cocky.

"Why's that? Are you used to women just throwing themselves at you?" You tease but keep yourself from his eyeline.

"Well, yes- but, you've been especially touchy recently. And you seem to be acting like I make you.. nervous. Fidgety." His little observations leave you a bit embarrassed.

"It's not nervous.. exactly. Never mind that, though.. Does.. that interest you..? At all?" It takes you a while to get the question out and it still comes across shaky. You're response is silence. Fill it.

"H-How about a drink before you head off, hm?" You quickly shuffle to your liquor cart, looking for anything to drown out your essential confession.

"It does." You freeze in place, missing the cup entirely with your first pour. That was an answer neither of you were really expecting. You finally turn to him, seeing that he had looked away just as you did.

"So, that means-" you want him to elaborate. You want to hear him say all the things you've been dreaming of. That he wants to spend his free time with you, hold your hand, and kiss it with more than just a greeting in mind. To call you anything other than kitten. Well.. that last part you didn't mind as much.

"I've not prepared myself for such a conversation, but I.. enjoy your company. And your brains.. and you certainly aren't terrible to look at." He said he didn't prepare himself, and it was pretty obvious. This wasn't his usual taunting, his usually eloquent beats. He's pausing between phrases, to come up with the best words on hand.

"Jee, thanks." You roll your eyes, your smile still shining.

"I suppose you leave me speechless, kitten." You leave a radio host, a man who talks for a living and is quite good at it, speechless. This time, he sees the freshly pink hues across your cheek. He lets out a devious chuckle, one you recognize when he's about to do something you'd consider nefarious. He starts to approach you, his clean shoes clicking against the wooden floors being the only sound. You knew you weren't in danger, but you find yourself walking backward until you hit the table. Continuing to lean away from him, he towers over you, only following your avoidance until you are straining to stand upwards.

"Well?" You let out, your words barely a whisper. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

That seems to shock him a bit, you see his shoulders tense just slightly. You watch him contemplate his next action. He let his hand snake around your waist, not exactly to pull you closer, but his touch still left you weak. With a soft kiss on your lips, he gave you no time to truly enjoy it.

"I hate to repeat myself, but I warned you, kitten. Curious little things like yourself deserve.. more." After processing his words, you're still melting to his touch despite how fleeting it was. He steps away.

"W-What- No! I thought you said you were interested! And that kiss- W-What were-" You throw a bit of a tantrum, but quickly calm yourself. "I don't understand, help me understand. Please.." You sound a bit defeated. He sighs, clearly pained that this conversation has to continue.

"Hm.. I don't believe I'm able to give you everything you need. But, you deserve everything you need. It's as simple as that." He's pausing between words, and his expression shows that he's still not exactly satisfied with how it came out.

You shrank in place and held your arms, your mind trying to scrap together any little hints to what he means. Maybe something he's mentioned in the past. But as elusive as ever, it still just doesn't make sense to you. He catches a glimpse of your upset appearance, then takes in the rest of your state a bit longer. You can feel his eyes on you, forcing you to nervously bite at your lip.

"Okay. Let's forget all that, then." You said softly, smiling the best you can and waving your hand dismissively. He obviously knows that you wouldn't lose these feelings as quickly as he'd hoped. He'd reassure you, you'll get over it.

But you couldn't. You tried, you did. You went on other dates, considering how many men were throwing themselves at you in the right bars. You kept your distance for a bit but still saw him at Mimzy's bar on the weekends. Despite all your potential suitors, you still only seemed to look forward to those nights with Alastor. You'd go as far as to complain about some unruly men to him. His disgusted reactions were a comfort.

You kept trying to pry his real reasoning as to why he wouldn't be with you. He'd admit to not being trustworthy, which you would always dismiss. He'd go on about the other men that would be a much better fit, and all with good reasoning, but you still wouldn't stop pestering him. Then, after a few too many drinks, he finally let slip his disinterest in intimacy. And from everything he's told you, this seemed different. It wasn't an excuse or an avoidance, it was the truth.

"So, you don't find me physically attractive?" You ask him, swirling your half-empty cup.

"It's not that, I assure you. I'd just prefer to shower you in other affections, I suppose." He seems a bit unfiltered tonight, still avoiding your eyes.

"Other affections, hm? Like what, birdy?" You were already enraptured. But you were kicking yourself for getting your hopes up at all. You can see his immediate regret in his words.

"Kitten-"

"Please? I'm just curious." You say sincerely, placing your hand over top of his. You hesitate for a moment, but he seems to not mind the touch.

"Well.. I'd like to buy you the finest things. Any book you're slightly interested in, any frock that draws your eyes, any accessories that would bring out your natural beauty- you deserve it. I want to keep you proudly on my arm throughout the streets, showing everyone that you belong to me. I'd like to cook you every meal, until the day I die." His drunken rants leave an obvious sparkle in your eyes.

"Well that all sounds lovely to me.." you say softly, twisting and turning his hand until your fingers are comfortably interlocked with his. "Simply put, you're not interested in sex?” He was taken aback by your bold words, looking around as if he were nervous someone would hear. “I’ve read about it before, there’s an interesting essay that describes this sort of phenomenon. I'll have to lend it to you.” Your calmness surprises him.

“Well.. Thank you. That puts an end to that, then. Go on and find a man who can properly bed you.” He tries to act just as calm, but his voice still seems a bit frustrated by the idea. You make an act out of tapping your chin and humming in thought.

“No, I’d much rather spend my time with you.” You say bluntly. He quickly chimes in.

“But, I-”

“Alastor, I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you.” You let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you’ll have me, however you want that is, I’d love nothing more than to spend my days with you.” You speak slowly, almost mockingly, trying to get this damned point across after so long.

He’s still quiet, opening his mouth to respond, then letting his lips shut again. He smiles at you. You couldn't ask for a better response. It was the sweetest smile you've ever seen from him, no sign of teasing or mocking you, no hidden intent, and just slightly bashful. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, in a sweet sign of acceptance.

Things went on after that without a hitch. Mostly. There were some kinks to work out, sure, but you were absolutely head over heels for him. No one’s ever brought you this much joy, and having this more intimate side of him, despite its physicalities, was more than you could ever hope for. He’d finally let you into his home after a while. It was near spotless and he was more than willing to show off the space to you. You wondered why he felt the need to stall this for so long. But you’re together now, hardly anything else matters.

As the summer came to an end, and you had to find somewhere else, you were invited to stay with Alastor. After walking freely around town, as promised, with his arm around yours, gossip spread as it always does. Another talk of the town, two unwed youths in the same place, sharing the same bed assumedly. It made you two snicker at the rumors. Living with him was heaven.

Following through his previous statements, he showered you in compliments, cooked every meal for you, and spent as much of his free time with you as he could. He offered little physical affection, little pecks here and there, and had no issue with sharing his bed. It wasn't long before you popped the question. Neither of you were really interested in the big fancy wedding idea, he was even comprehended by the marriage itself, but if anyone could wear down his nerves, it was you. That being said, Alastor did get you a ring that you were sure cost far too much. He brought up the idea of eloping. A little vacation just for the two of you. It sounded perfect.

“Birdy~ You let out in a sing-song tone, opening the door to your shared home. Every time you’d walk up to the house, you’d slow down, taking in your flawless reality every day. You’d hold your hand out to yourself, looking at the still newly polished ring, then finally entering your perfect home.

Although, it wasn’t perfect today.

You call out his name, no response. You know he should be home, so you peak around corners to no avail. You checked tables and counters, no note to be seen.

After setting down your bag, slipping your heels off, and hanging your coat after your quick search, you head to your room to at least change for the evening. You and Alastor usually go visit Mimzy on these nights, an unspoken routine.

On the way to your room, your tights hit a wet splotch on the floor. With a groan of disgust, you finally realize what you had stepped in.

Blood.

Of course, you’d recognize blood. It trailed from the door in front of you.

Alastor assured you this was his office and showed it to you on occasion. The door was always open when he wasn't home, and although you never felt the need to intrude on his personal space, something was clearly wrong. You swung open the door.

“No.”

You cover your mouth after your quiet refusal. You're silent, unwilling to believe what you're seeing. Your darling husband-to-be, kneeling over a stained and still wet corpse wrapped in canvas. His hands are covered in blood. Actually, his entire body is covered in blood.

How he managed to get in and out of the house without making an entire mess was a thought that managed to cross your mind in your state of shock. You glance up for a second to notice one of the heavy bookshelves pushed aside, a sort of patio doorway leading to the swampy area behind the house.

You look at the door, then to Alastor. Who’s giving you a wide-eyed face that pains your chest.

Say something, Alastor. Say something that’ll make this all okay. You're a deer in headlights.

He notices your eyes dart to the right, then back to him, staring for a moment longer. One thing is on your mind without his reassurance. You’re in danger.

Run.

You book it down the hall, clearly going to the exit. Both your feet soaked in blood at this point are tracking through the house. The moment was such a blur, that you hardly remember how far you got before feeling the pain of hitting the floor. You look down after scrambling onto your back, seeing Alastor’s hand wrap around your ankle.

“Hold on! You’re covered in blood, you’re a mess, just-” He sounds deranged. Who is this man? Surely not the one who’s been treating you so well all this time. He sounds anxious and angry. You’re face is stained with tears as he essentially drags you across the floor briefly, not considering his heightened adrenaline in these moments. You kick. You scream.

“Listen to me!” He grabs you by your arms, giving you a good shake. That seems to calm you down.. or at least quiet you down. You’re staring at him wide-eyed, your breath rapid. He has your attention, yet he’s not sure what to say. A pained expression grows on his face. You’re leaving him speechless, again.

“Let’s.. clean you up.” He scoops you up, and maybe it's the shock that leaves you so lenient. Or maybe it's all the good times blurring what you've witnessed. When you come to, you’re sitting in the bath, Alastor by your side, and running a sponge across your arm, thoroughly staining the water with blood. The sight brings a gasp from your lips, that feels like the first breath you've taken in hours.

“A-Alastor-” You let out weakly, your frightened expression now burned into his mind. “Was that real..?”

“It was-” He lets out a pained sigh, seeing if he could soften the truth. It's not possible. “-It was.” no words can save him from this.

“W-Why..?”

“He was rather unpleasant. A man with too much money, who wasted most of his time on hitting his women staff. He had his chance to make things right, I assure you, this is always the last resort.” That doesn't help for obvious reasons. You pull away from his gentle washing.

“Always? You've done this before?” Your voice squeaks as it comes out. You don't want to know the details. But you can't stop the words from spilling from your lips. He stands and rings the sponge out into the sink, watching the red-tinted water swirl down the drain.

“Yes.”

“How many times have you-” You stop yourself finally. You don't want the answer to that one. You don't want the answer to any of these questions. Unconsciously, your mind still seems to piece together every strange thing he’s done and said to you.

Your half-sentence is replied to with silence. He goes on to finish cleaning you up, helping you in and out of the tub, and drying you as best he can. He wraps you in his own robe and brings you to the bedroom. You’re mortified when you notice him guiding you by your shoulders to avoid the bloody footprints still on the ground.

Some time passes. You sit empty-minded on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing down into nothing. Alastor leans against the vanity across the small room from you. He runs his hands through his hair, pausing and clenching some strands in his fists before moving on.

“I can..get all your belongings together, find you a place to stay. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” He finally says, breaking the silence and your endless train of thought. His offer seems reasonable, but you still feel hurt.

“You want me to leave?” You ask quietly, gripping the edges of the robe and shrinking into yourself. He’s shocked by your response, you can hear it in his voice.

“You want to stay?” He asks in response.

“I.. I love you.” You say weakly. It stings to say it out loud. And even more so to hear it. “Will you hurt me? I-If I go to the police? If I rat you out..?” What are you doing? You can’t ask a murderer that. Your mind is running on fear, especially after what you just said. You feel his hand lightly lift your face to his, flinching slightly considering you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

“I would never hurt you. I’d spend my days rotting in a jail cell if it meant you’re safe..and happy. I love you, kitten.” You aren’t used to seeing this face. It’s almost emotionless. You start to picture this face carrying out his murderous intentions. But there's a crack in his psychopathic mask. There's a hint of softness and anguish at the sight of you.

“I don't.. I don't want to leave.” You take a hold of his hand, still shaking and clearly unsure of your words. You hear a soft hiss leave his lips, clearly trying to conceal his reaction to the unexpected. “I don’t want you to be in jail- or.. I suppose I don't want you to be caught..?” You groan, holding tightly onto his hand. “I’m so confused, Alastor. I want things to be normal. I want to go back to when you cooked for me, and.. And go back to planning- o-our elopement…” You let out weakly. He doesn't respond at first, you force your eyes up to meet his. He looks heartbroken at the sight of you.

“I just want to pretend that none of this happened..Please, stop this. F-for me, please don't do this anymore.” Your voice becomes a whisper. His hesitation only makes it all worse. He responds once he feels your grip on him loosen.

“Okay- okay. I’ll clean up this mess, and- I’ll stop. For you.” You manage to give him a weak smile, before resting your head against his chest. After holding you for a moment he settles you into bed after you had essentially fallen asleep in his arms. He does as promised. Mostly. He cleans up the mess at least.

The next morning, you wake up and hope everything that happened before a nightmare. But, you feel his robe still wrapped around you, then notice Alastor’s side of the bed empty. It's real then. It was too vivid. And if it's real.. Then he’s stopping. Because of you. It’s almost touching.

You go on about your day, and he greets you as if nothing is wrong, making your breakfast as usual. He’s chipper and goes on to chat about his plans for today. He’s pretending that nothing went on. How often has he done this? Convincingly pretend that he didn't take a life less than twelve hours ago?

It takes you a few days. A few months.. years, actually. To accept what he had done. You never forgave him, but you accepted it. You had to go on and enjoy your newly wedded life together, didn't you? Alastor had a broadcast to work on, an audience to appease, and you had to work as a physician, helping locals from within their homes. Besides, he stopped the murders after you caught him that one awful night, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Police are at your door. A nightmare of a sight. You open it, putting on your best face. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, but your smile still convinced the public. Leaning against the open door and batting your lashes you greet them sweetly. your face instantly fell to their words. You almost hoped that he had gotten caught. But he didn't.

He's dead.

“Shot in the woods, ma’am. A hunter mistook him for a deer in the dark.” you'd recall these words later, but for now, your ears were ringing and your mind was absent. You thanked them and shut the door.

You can't recall how loudly you screamed and sobbed, or for how long that went on. You need to be held. You need him to hold you and that only pains you more. You mourned for days, canceling appointments, and not answering any guests who were there to offer empty condolences. You rotted in his home. He was so young. You were both so young, there was so much to look forward to in your future. It's all gone now.

The first place you went to was Mimzy's bar. A few months had passed, and all your good liquor had run out. Plus, a familiar face could be a good change of pace right now.

“Oh, hun!” An immediate greeting at the door, Mimzy brings you to the bar. It's a late night on a workday, it was essentially empty. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Everyone in town is worried bout ya! I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, but how are you doin'?” She was right. You didn't want to hear that. You hated that question.

“Fine.” You say squeakly. It was the first word you had spoken in weeks, you realize. She slides you your drink and you immediately down it. She tops it off just for it to be finished off even faster than the last.

“Slow down, hun.” She says, sliding a glass of water to you next. When you drink it thoughtlessly, the absence of alcohol has you scrunching your nose. “I'm sure this isn't the best time, but.. I got somethin’ for ya.” She disappears into some backroom before reapproaching you and your barely touched glass of water. She places an enveloped letter in your hand. Your name written in neat cursive fills its front and your hands start to shake.

“It's from Al. He wanted me to give this to ya. If he ever.. well, if this ever happened.” as she's speaking, you've already opened it and begun reading.

It was instructions. And a large wad of cash. Above the instructions, A small blurb about how sorry he was, how much he loved you, and prayed that you'd never have to read this. Then a list of how to thoroughly clean and dispose of all evidence in his shed.

“Did you know?” you ask Mimzy, your hands crinkling on each side of the letter. She nods. “He never stopped, did he?” You say in a hushed tone, mainly in disbelief to yourself.

“Well- not exactly, no. he was finishing somethin' up in the forest that one night.” Mimzy talks as if she's practiced this conversation. He must've kept her up to date with all this.

“He told me he would stop. He said he was doing it for me-” You grip at your heart, letting out a shaky breath.

“What important is that he loved ya, right? He was an equal opportunity killer, hun, he only did what he had to. It was for the greater good, ya know?” Mimzy was speaking far too calmly about this. you let out a flurry of curses, shoving the crumpled-up instructions into your purse before standing at the bar.

“You're all fucking psychopaths!” You yell out to the empty bar and leave the building in a huff.

You needed to leave town. The two people you were closest to were both criminals. And being in this house was only hurting you more. You packed as much as you could, hand hovering over the phone to call for a taxi. You freeze in place. Then see your ring. You look at it for a moment, the light giving it a beautiful shine. With a defeated sigh, you set your bags aside and pull the instructions back out from your purse, straightening it out as best you could.

After finishing a very thorough cleaning, and questioning your actions through it all, you did everything on the list. You burned the letter alongside some other items that he told you to dispose of. You still aren't sure why you did it. He was never caught before and he must have cleaned up his job in the forest before getting shot. Maybe it was for the best. Let his radio persona live on. Let it be the last nice thing you ever do for him. You finally leave that hellhole behind.

You went on to live another sixty years, quite a feat if you must admit. You weren't much of a religious person, so passing in your sleep and waking up in the streets of Pentagram City, was a bit of a shock. After accepting the idea of an afterlife, you put the little details together. You were sure after all that went down in your youth, you would end up here. And if you're here, then maybe..

There are more important things right now. Lucky for you, you fell right in the middle of a bustling street. You scramble to your feet and quickly escape the speeding cars. Why were there cars in Hell? Why did it look so much like a big city you would visit at some point, how is it so human? There was so much to question, but you were desperate to find any sort of sanctuary.

You weren't sure why your first thought was to find the nearest bar, but something seemed to bring you in. You're almost disappointed in yourself for stepping into a club decorated as a 20s speakeasy. But it was familiar- nostalgic. A shrill voice draws your attention.

"Oh my stars! Get over here, doll!" The shriek brings your attention to the bar, where a slightly familiar face greets you. “What are ya gawkin’ at? It’s me! Mimzy? Get that tail over here!” Mimzy owns a club even in Hell? You approach her after some more beckoning.

"Long time no see! How long you been in?" She goes on. You observe her appearance as she speaks. She looks almost the same. The red eyes and sharp teeth were definitely new. You realize you hadn't had the chance to take in your own appearance, but clearly, it must've been similar enough for her to recognize you. Still questioning your position, you finally process her words.

"Oh- I just arrived actually. Lucky me to walk straight into your bar, hm?" You lean against the counter as she pours you a drink, a flurry of trauma and nostalgia turns to confusion.

"Wow! You had quite a life after old Al got you outta town, didn't ya?” She teased. You let out a nervous chuckle. Good old Al. You haven't thought about him in years. You were so young, so head over heels for this man you barely knew. You somehow managed to suppress all the bad times as you aged. Mimzy notices your face droop a bit.

"I suppose I did.." a brief smile meets the wedding band still on your hand.

"Well? Finally gonna reunite? Ooh! How romantic! You'll have to update me, sweetie!" Mimzy bats at you, letting out an excited giggle. You quickly shake your head, not processing any other way to respond.

"I-I can't- I mean.. Not after everything he’s done.” Your hands clench at even the thought.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but we’re all for a reason. You got plenty of time to forgive him, with the whole eternal punishment of it all.” Mimzy’s tone drops to a more serious one as if she’s heard that line before. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to rot in Hell with someone they love, you should see what he’s up to!” Her tone seems to immediately switch to something more chipper.

“Still, I uh.. I shouldn't. He’s been dead for so long, I’m sure he’s got some other dame cleaning up his messes.” Excuses. You didn't want to see him, because this is his fault. You're here because you helped clean up his space after his unfortunate death. Even when you had no idea, he relied on you. He trusted you to carry this burden for the rest of your life. Your rage was suppressed when you heard Mimzy's voice chime back in.

"Nope! He's been busy with uh.. his work. Still wears the ring, though~" She hums, tapping her finger to emphasize her words. You look down at your own hand. Why did you still wear yours, again? You never remarried, but mainly because of the trust issues that were instilled in you for the rest of your life. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea..

“N-No, I just cant..” You let out louder than you meant to. Mimzy shrugs off your panic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you, Mimzy?”

Mimzy did in fact have a spare room. You stayed in one of the ratty rooms about the bar, alongside some of the demons that rented the rooms for their own business. You realized, after finding a mirror, that you were portrayed with some feline features, nothing too disfiguring. Once you saw your new form, Alastor’s voice, every single time he beckoned you with kitten, rang throughout your mind. You couldn't bring yourself to look at yourself for the first few months. This was Hell after all. Eternal punishment can manifest in several ways.

Mimzy was still a clear supporter of Alastor, so she had a radio set up in your room already. No matter how hard you tried, you realize pretty early on that Alastor had some power over the radios that force his broadcasts to be the only thing streaming. You heard it all. The screams of souls being torn apart, his constant gossiping and cruel words making fun of other demons.

But damn, if it didn't feel like living again. Waking up every morning to the sound of his voice on the radio, before you can truly decipher what he’s talking about, it almost feels like a normal life. But then you hear the pain in those demons that he’s mercilessly tearing up. Sometimes, you see Mimzy cheering at the radio like some sports game is being narrated. You try to avoid her when she’s doing that.

Things were comfortable for many years. As comfortable as Hell can be, at least. Alastor became a distant part of your daily routine, you'd hear his broadcasts all the time, but only in addition to the other bustling city noises. It all seemed to cancel out after a while. You worked with Mimzy, picking up at the bar when she had to run off. In exchange, you stayed in that room indefinitely. You two seemed to become friends again, despite your living history. It became clear to you that what happened when you were alive really didn't matter down here. You all made the same degree of mistakes and you all learned that you’re here for the same reasons.

You went through extermination days as best you could, only having one face-to-face interaction. That day, you were already on the verge of death from falling debris and trying to escape a specifically insistent exorcist. She had you cornered. You shut your eyes, wincing at the upcoming angelic weapon you saw her raise at you. Only feeling a slight sting across the bridge of your nose and cheek, you open your eyes to see her flying back towards the portal to heaven. You can't believe you got that lucky. You’re still in disbelief at the entire scenario, but unlike most wounds down here, your face was permanently scarred. It was small, barely noticeable! Mimzy says.

But you knew not everyone had this much luck on extermination day. After noticing the silence on the streets, during the most recent extermination, you nervously left the bar. Everything was empty. The portal had opened closer to that hotel you’d heard of. And the exorcists were going straight to it. You scoffed, walking back into the bar. They’d finish off those demons there quickly, so you still wanted to hide. As you barred yourself up in your room, you remembered Mimzy telling you about her visit to that hotel. About why she visited the hotel. Alastor's there. You try to not panic. It’s been decades, why are you worried about him? Besides you know how powerful he is, you've picked up his whole radio demon shtick from others. He’ll be fine.

Then why are you so restless?

A loud knocking at your door shakes your entire core. You keep yourself hauled up in the corner of your room, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You still hear a voice call your name from the other side of the door.

“You gotta come see this! The angels are gone!” It's Mimzy. it's far earlier than usual, you were almost worried it was some new tactic they picked up. You crack the door open just slightly, and her small frame pummeled the door open. She paces your room, rambling words that you barely catch, and she shoves her phone to your face. You have to take it from her shaking hands to get a glimpse. It's hard to see, but it's very obviously footage of Alastor fighting Adam. His body is warped through the drone’s camera, and you watch him fade away into nothingness after one blow. There was no audio, You couldn't hear what happened. Considering you weren't familiar with his shadow antics, you had no idea what actually happened to him.

“You gotta find out if he's okay! I can't go back to that hotel, you gotta do it!” she sounds frantic, taking her phone back. “What? Absolutely not! I'm sure he's fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, despite the hesitance in your voice. Everyone's in Hell for the same reasons. Your mind goes back and forth on the possibility of forgiveness.. of mending burned bridges.

“The videos from a few hours ago, those angels are gone! Ooh.. He's just gotta be okay..” You didn't realize how much Mimzy actually appreciated Alastor. Whether it be the protection he offers or their actual friendship, you aren't sure. But she's clearly worried about him. You just aren't ready.

Mimzy spent the next few days begging you to go down there and find him. And you refused every time. She mentioned going to Cannibal Town to visit his "Gal Pal" and even she hadn't heard from him. He's disappeared before, just recently too, You're sure it was just like his last seven-year absence. Even if you were getting a bit worried, you'd never admit it. There were no broadcasts, there was no public trash-talking from the Vees, it was just.. quiet.

“Didn't you love him?” You stare at Mimzy, in disbelief that she just said that.

“Excuse me?” That seemed to strike a nerve. And maybe she meant to do that.

“I remember you two in my bar, you were two peas in a pod! I've never seen him like that with any gal, hun. That's not somethin' that just goes away.” Mimzy takes your hand from across the bar. “Please, go check on him. Maybe it'll be like a final hurrah, but I just gotta know if he's okay.” You look around the room as if someone would offer to go in your place. But she's right. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't missing his broadcasts. You let out a dejected sigh.

“Okay.. okay! Fine.” You huff. An immediate change in attitude, Mimzy lets out an excited exclamation and pours the two of you drinks, to celebrate her pushy victory.

You take in a deep breath, looking around the new hotel's exterior. It was much larger than the previous one and more lavish. You hesitate before knocking on the door. A series of whispered voices, then scrambling feet, follow the door opening. It's the princess of Hell. You weren't expecting Alastor to greet you, but you still feel a bit disappointed.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” You quickly interrupt.

“No! Nono, sorry.” You laugh Nervously. “I'm not here for the whole.. redemption thing. Is.. uh…” You peek around her shoulder, seeing a few demons you recognize from the commercial, but no Alastor.

“Is the radio demon here..?” You finally ask quietly. Charlie still seems a little hurt from the interruption, but just because you're not interested in redemption doesn't mean she won't try to convince you.

“Alastor? Sure! He's been in his tower since we reopened.. So, he's probably up there.” She explains, pulling you into the building despite your refusal. “I can go get him for you! What's your name? I'll tell him who-”

"That's actually okay! I was sent to check up on him, so.. if he's alive, then that's all I need to hear!” Mimzy will just have to be satisfied with that. You're chickening out. If they're saying he's fine, then that's good enough for you. The longer you're here, the more anxious you're becoming. You're worried he could pop out of nowhere. Which is a legitimate concern apparently.

“Charlie!” A greeting comes from behind the blonde, and you see a red-clawed hand engulf her shoulder. “Already a new resident? How exciting! What unfortunate sinner has found themselves here as a last resort.. today…”

You know that voice. Of course, you know that voice. He looks fairly similar to how he did when he was alive, the hair was new. Ditto the antlers. A deer? They turned him into a deer down here? You almost want to laugh. Maybe being in Hell for so long has turned your sense of humor that crude. You're staring with wide eyes. He whispers your name so quietly that all you can really take in is his lips forming the word.

“Hey, Al! She was just looking for you! I think she might be worried, right?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-

“I.. was! But I see he’s clearly fine now, so! I should get back to Mimzy’s-”

“Mimzy? You're with that trainwreck?” a low voice comes from the bar, interrupting the conversation. The cat demon behind the counter scoffs at you. “Nice ears.” They fold down involuntarily from embarrassment.

“Kitten.” You immediately turn at the sound of Alastor’s voice, shivers thoroughly covering your body. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it clamps shut. His eyes widen for a moment, looking around the room to see how almost every resident had gathered to witness the new face. You start to back away to the door.

“This may not have been the best idea.. T-thank you, princess, it was nice meeting you.” with a blink of your eye, Alastor’s arm is around your shoulder.

“Why of course! Thank you for visiting! I'll escort you out!” His chipper attitude startles you, and you feel almost insulted by his eagerness to have you leave.

“Oh! Well.. come back anytime! Our doors are always open!” You hear Charlie call out as Alastor takes you outside the building. Before you even have a chance to protest, you're suddenly in a recording room. Your mouth is still open ready to scold him, but instead, you examine the dizzying change in scenery. Your eyes finally drop to Alastor, who had taken both your shoulders and let his head drop from your view. He startles to mumble.

“W-What are you-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were here?” His head finally lifts and you catch his perplexed expression. Pained eyes paired with a strained smile, it's almost frightening.

“W-Well, I.. it was just-”

“When did you arrive?”

“A few.. decades ago..?”

“Decades?” His voice goes low and static. You pull away from his grasp as his voice changes. “You shouldn't be here. There has to be a mistake.” His voice returns to normal, and he starts to pace the room. Mumbling more nonsense to himself, he starts gripping at his hair.

You watch this for a while, before finally approaching him. You take hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in place. Pulling down his arm, you feel the grasp on his hair loosen.

“Calm down. You're pulling your hair out, again.” You say softly, brushing his hand clean of stray hairs he had torn out. Reaching forward you attempt to brush his hair back into place. Your hand pauses, hovering just by his cheek. You want to hold him. He seems to follow your hand when you decide to quickly distance yourself.

His eyes look bloodshot and demonic. How could you still possibly be getting lost in them?

“You shouldn't be here, kitten. You’re here because of me.” You flinch at his words, despite how true they are, you manage to feel some underlying guilt.

“Yeah.. Mimzy just wanted to know if you were alright. And you seem just fine. I should go.” You say bluntly, taking hold of your arms and going towards the door.

“Why didn't you find me?” His words cause you to stop.

“Sorry, you weren't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up in Hell.”

“Kitten, I-” His voice seems to drop the radio static. It sounds entirely too familiar.

“-don't call me that.” You snap, biting at your lip unconsciously.

“I'm sorry.” He finally says. “It was.. irresponsible of me to lie to you. I made a mistake.” He sounds more embarrassed to admit he messed up. His ego makes you scoff.

“Yes, it was irresponsible. It was downright cruel, Alastor. I had to live with the burden of your murders and had to die with the consequences.” You turn back to face him, a rage that had been boiling for decades finally spilling over. “I did so much good after you died. It has to be your fault I'm here. I never told the cops, I followed your ridiculous instructions, and it was the worst decision of my life! And now I'm paying for it. For being too far in love to realize that you were just using me!” You've had this conversation in your head so many times, that you have no issue saying exactly what you want.

“No!" He stops himself before he can shout anything else. "I assure you, that isn't the case at all. I love you more than I can put into words, kitten, can't we just-” Alastor reaches his hand out to you and you quickly lean away. You spot the ring on his finger.

“Love? You used me to make sure your record stayed clean! That's not love.” You hiss.

“I did it to protect you. I gave you everything you needed to remove yourself from the situation if anything were to happen to me. You said you went on to do good, and I believe you. That was because of me! The letter and the money were both for your safety- I was helping you.” He isn’t exactly shouting, but his tone is certainly sending chills down your spine.

“You don't get to take credit for my life! I should have never come!” You fling your arms up, turning back to the door. He grabs your arm and turns you back to him, a tight grip on your shoulders. He opens his mouth to seemingly scold you, and you're ready to bite back. You notice him scanning over your facial features, and his expression seems to falter.

“What happened to you?” He runs a clawed finger delicately across the scar on your cheek. It had faded but was still visible. You wince at his touch, which makes him pull his hand back.

“Oh, don't act like you care.” You mumble.

“Of course, I care.” His soft response forces a pained groan from your lips.

“All these sweet words you’re saying.. I-I don’t know what to think with that ridiculous smile.. I can't take you seriously!” Your voice is beginning to crack, losing the strength to have this go on.

“About that-”

“I hate you.” He flinches at your words, Out of everything you’ve said, you don't understand why that seems to silence him. He grips onto his chest, his coat and shirt scrunching into his fist. You watch him drop his head, bracing himself on his desk that he had stumbled to. You’re sure he’s being dramatic. Hamming it up to get some sort of pity. A sigh passes your lips.

“Um.. Alastor… I didn't mean to-” His act only fools you a little bit. You wonder if you’ve let out too much steam. If he really-

Before you can finish any other thoughts, he collapses to the floor.

“Fuck-” You quickly move to his side, flipping him to his back and helping him at least prop himself up against a wall. “Should I get-”

“Don't tell the others.” He breathes out, putting his hand up dismissively. With the wave of his hand, you see the blood across his palm. Your eyes follow the source to a continuously growing stain on his top. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother you after everything. “Just help me up.”

“O-Okay.” You do as he says, helping him stand. Almost feeling like an instinct, you pull his coat off of his shoulders. He struggles to keep up with the movement but still gives in. He quickly loses his strength and stumbles to the small couch nearby. You almost enjoy watching him stubbornly refuse your help.

“I.. might require.. some assistance.” He says it so softly you almost want to ask him to repeat himself. Even if you understood him just fine.

“You're asking for help?” You correct him, placing your hands on your hips.

“I don't need help.” He snaps. You would've been offended if you knew he was just to flustered to admit it.

“Then what do you need?” You sit beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his blood-stained shirt. He immediately winces.

“For.. you to stitch this up.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, your hands grazing the fluff of his chest with a mild curiosity. You finally get the full scope of a completely untreated slash that would've surely killed any human if left untreated. But for an almost immortal demon, it was just a painful nuisance. Very painful.

“From your fight with… You want me to help you stitch this up?” You ask because that it seems near impossible to do so, even with someone of your medical history. It's wide and seems to be covered with specks of gold. It feels like small shards of glass when you swipe your hand over him.

“.. yes.” He says quietly. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him. He’s reckless, too stubborn to have looked at the wound because of its reminder of his defeat. And you know that's exactly why it got this bad. No matter how small, Alastor sees the smile growing on you.

“I missed your smile.” He says softly.

“Please stop saying things like that.. You're confusing me.” You make sure to speak your words quietly as if you don't want them to be heard. A small demonic creature rushes to your side, holding a tray up with the essentials to properly treat the slash. It stays perfectly still once in your reach.

You went to work, after some proper scolding, trying your best to keep the process as painless as possible. Every so often, you wonder why you are being so careful with him. He doesn't deserve your tenderness. Your thoughts are stopped when you see his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away. His face is scrunched, a hiss passing by his tormented smile. You must've hit the wrong spot while lost in thought. Your eyes fall to his ring, again.

“Why did you keep this on?” You ask, examining his hand that’s still engulfing your wrist.

“It reminds me of you. And yours?” His voice is hushed, still recovering from the pain. You realize he has a full view of your own hand, your wedding band sitting just as clear to him.

“It.. reminds me of what you did to me.” You hear a quiet groan in response to your words, and he releases your arm, gripping the couch in its stead. You keep going.

“I'll admit, I was worried about you.. after the battle with Adam. Maybe it was Mimzy getting me all worked up..” You finally admit. You don’t want him to think you’ve spent your whole life and death hating him. But why would it matter either way?

“I can't be killed, you had nothing to worry about.” He replies, not willing to comment on your sudden vulnerability. Not in this position. All you can do is laugh at him. He's clearly talking out his ass.

“Looks like you got pretty close to it.” You scoff. His ears flatten, and he looks away like a stubborn child.

You finish up after an hour. It felt much longer. The silence with quiet quips mixed in, the surprisingly intimate moment, it was suffocatingly uncomfortable.

“I didn't want to come here. I was perfectly content in being in Hell. I didn't expect this form of torture.” You say, setting everything back onto the little tray presented to you. That little demon had been standing there this whole time. You notice it started shaking a while ago.

“Come now, you're being dramatic. You chose to find me, did you not?” He says, sitting a bit taller with the regained strength.

“I'm not being dramatic! You try to avoid Mimzy's constant nagging! I hear your voice everywhere, see all the ads for this hotel, and they made me a damn cat, Alastor!” You feel yourself starting to lose your composure, gripping your hair and letting out a pained laughter. “H-how unfair is that..?” You let out a weak chuckle, feeling tears well in your eyes. He pulls your hand away from your hair, brushing his thumb across your ring as he holds you for a moment longer.

“Completely unfair. Your appearance may be.. unappealing … to you, but your face is still the same. Your eyes still bright as usual, your smile just as sweet.” His sincerity is muddling your thoughts. Those thoughts that warn you he’s hurt you before. And now he’s a cruel overlord, he’ll hurt you again tenfold. You feel his thumb drag along your lip after realizing you had leaned in towards him.

“Still biting your lip, hm?” His static fades again, and you wince at the raw skin he's brushing over. Old habits apparently don’t die hard.

“N-nervous tick, I guess..” His closeness leaves you a bit breathless.

“Do I make you nervous?” His tone confuses you. There’s an underlying sense of worry, a genuine concern for your well-being. But you’re still distracted by his strange smile. You don’t have much time to think any further about it before you’re startled by gentle lips against yours. It’s quick but is more than enough to let out a flood of feelings you’ve been suppressing since the day you left your hometown. He looks at you with a sly smile on his face.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say quietly.

“I know.” He kisses you, again.

“Y-You don’t have to-” He interrupts you with another kiss.

“I know.” Still holding your face you barely take in his next words with a clear head. “I miss you.” Another kiss, just to throw you off this time, “I miss having you at my side.

Stay.. please.”

There was no way you would drop everything to live with a man you were barely married to in life. That didn't stop you from seeing him more, though. You were actually.. kind of glad to see him. To patch things up, even just a little. You’d visit, sneaking around at first to avoid any interaction from the other residents of the hotel. They were all more than intimidating to you. Especially considering one of them was the king of Hell. Alastor was more than happy to keep you away from him, though.

You updated Mimzy on how he was when you left that first night, but you left out the unimportant bits.. Like the giant angelic slash across his chest. You didn’t need Alastor to tell you that you shouldn't be going around spreading that information. A true accomplice. When Mimzy noticed you were visiting him to the point where you couldn't cover the bar when she needed you to, she was more than happy to kick you out. You knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't want you homeless, but you were essentially left with nowhere to go. Except for the hotel.

It wasn’t the worst thing to happen.. Things almost seemed normal. Alastor had lots of sucking up to do, even though he wouldn't call it that. He was definitely working at it. Making you breakfast like before, treating you like even higher royalty than he ever could while alive. He has the power to do so now and he fully intends to use it. And it’s working.. A little bit.

Okay, a lot.

You’re shocked that he still seems the same after becoming the powerful overlord he is. You’d love to convince yourself that none of that mattered, his status in Hell or what happened when you were alive. That you could just forget mortality to look forward to the potential future facing you. It’s easier said than done.

You're still struggling with your nightmares. Even more so in Hell, likely another form of punishment. Something about the hotel seemed to subdue some of them actually. As if the air were clearer here. It only helped most nights, though. Whenever you woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, clutching at your heart, there was only one thing to calm you. The radio at your nightstand would play a specific song. One that Mimzy was fond of, so you heard it most nights at her bar on Earth. Whenever you heard that, you knew he was there. He was waiting for you.

"Birdy?" You knock on his door, which seems to open slowly just from your touch. Alastor is sitting contently in front of his firepit. This wasn't the first time you've found him in the middle of the night.

"Another one, my love?" He tilts his head up slightly, the book he had in his hand shutting immediately. You nod your head slowly, already approaching him. Your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders is dragging across the ground. You give him a look he recognizes, and he nods at the implications. Without caution, you let out a tired whimper and plop into his lap. He pulls the blanket over your entirety.

Getting completely comfortable, he adjusts his arms to pull his book back to his eyeline. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder, you're too tired to conceal your little habit of purring. He doesn't mind, though. He loves it.

♡♡♡

Another big boy for ya 🫶

Human Alastor is really fun to write for, I had to do some research tho lol

I tried to keep Alastor's sexuality in mind, so I hope I represented it well. That's always something that makes me nervous when writing for Al 😬

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